You Only Live Twice
by thejennamonster
Summary: EPILOGUE ADDED! COMPLETE!  After an accident that puts Dib in a coma, he must prove that his soul is worthy of reinstatement. Wow, I'm bad at summaries...
1. Accident

You Only Live Twice.

PART ONE: In which Dib has an accident.

_Main Entry: **death**  
Pronunciation: __'deth__  
Function: noun  
Etymology: Middle English deeth, from Old English dEath; akin to Old Norse dauthi death, deyja to die -- more at DIE  
**1** a permanent cessation of all vital functions the end of life -- compare BRAIN DEATH  
**2** the cause or occasion of loss of life drinking was the death of him  
**3** capitalized the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe  
**4** the state of being dead  
**5 a** the passing or destruction of something inanimate the death of vaudeville **b** **: EXTINCTION**  
**6** **: CIVIL DEATH**  
**7** **: SLAUGHTER**  
**8** Christian Science the lie of life in matter that which is unreal and untrue **: ILLUSION**  
- **at death's door** close to death critically ill  
- **to death** beyond endurance **: EXCESSIVELY** bored to death _

"Stealth-suit? Check. X-ray binoculars complete with infrared night vision? Check." I listed the items on my bed, one after another, before putting them into my knapsack. "Camera? Check. Extra film? Check. Cell phone? Check. Learning to stop freaking talking to myself?" I sighed, "Working on that one." I hoisted the bag onto my back and made my way out of my room. Today was the day. I knew it. Today was the day I was finally going to expose Zim. After three long years of ridicule and child's games I was going to finally beat the little green menace. I was going to earn my manhood, my respect, my—

"You look like an idiot." My sister's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Huh?" I eloquently replied.

"You. Look. Like. An. Idiot." Gaz repeated herself, pronouncing every world slowly as if she were really speaking to a moron, "I can't believe you're actually going out of the house looking that way. It wasn't even cute when you were a kid, nevertheless now." My sister, being 13, had recently discovered fashion and the dos and don'ts thereof. Obviously, my stealth suit, while brand new and state of the art, was a don't.

"I'm not wearing it to be trendy, Gaz," I replied, "I'm wearing it for stealth. That's why it's called a 'stealth suit.' It will help me get into Zim's base easier. You know—blend into the walls and stuff. Covert ops. Mission Impossible. James Bond, that kinda stuff."

"Bond wore a tux, not a gigantic condom."

Oh, so that's what the suits smell had reminded me of…it_ was_ made out of latex. That made sense.

"Besides," she continued, turning back to her video game, "it's our Annual Family Night. You can't go play with Zim, anyhow."

"I do not _play_ with Zim, Gaz," I corrected indignantly, "he's my mortal enemy. The fate of the world could rest on tonight! I have to go out! I have to stop whatever evil scheme he's cooked up in his evil scheme cooker upper of evil schemey doom. Or something." I knew I sounded stupid, but over the years I realized that the more irritated Gaz became with a conversation--or my presence in general--the quicker she stopped talking and left me to my own devices. Either that or she would beat me up. Either way left me free to leave the house and fulfill my mission.

Gaz looked over her shoulder at me from the couch, an eyebrow raised. "O-kay, I'll let you get on with that, then, " Ah-ha! Success! "But just so you know, Dad comes home at 8 and it's your year to choose. If you're not back by then, you forfeit your turn and we're going to Bloaty's."

"Haven't you tired of that place, yet?"

She shrugged, "I like the little piggies." She gave me a little wave over shoulder, dismissing me., as she returned to her game.

"Riiight." I stated. I put a smile on my face and faked some good natured cheer as I made my way to the door, "Well, Gaz, don't worry. I'll be home before Dad gets back from work. If not—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, call the Swollen Whatevers, they'll know what to do. I know the drill, Dib, now will you leave, you're voice is making me mess up this level, and if I kill you, Dad won't buy me pizza."

"Yeah, thanks, sis, I love you, too." I muttered under my breath as I stepped through the doorway. I thought I heard her make a little growly scoffing sound from her perch on the couch, but I was probably imagining things.

"Now, Gir, my next INGENIOUS plan is almost COMPLETE!" Zim was ranting again. Loudly. It was all I could do not to cover my ears as I watched from my hiding place behind Nick's containment chamber. I felt bad for the kid. He had been in that tank for three years, now. He had outgrown his clothing and now hung there, naked in the suspension fluid. The probe that Zim had placed in the pleasure center of his brain had driven him horribly insane with happiness, yet there was something in his eyes, something pleading that made me want to just pull the plug and put him out of his wonderful misery. However, I was too worried that any movement would alert Zim to my presence, and thus both Nick and my ears had to bear their tortures.

"Soon, Gir, we will have the Dib right where we want him." Zim, continued.

"In a giant vat of mashed po-ta-toes?" Asked Gir, naively.

"Yes, Gir, in a giant vat of—NO! Not PO-TA-TOES! Gir, stop talking nonsense."

"But I like nonsense." Gir answered, pouting a little. Zim chose to ignore him.

"As I was saying, soon my latest plan will be COMPLETE and I will have the Dib right where I want him: bowing before the incredibleness of ZIM! COMPUTER!"

"What?" The computer whined.

"Bring me the DOOMINATOR!"

The computer heaved an irritated sigh, "Fine."

There was a moment of tense silence and then a fierce eruption of noise as the entire base shook with the force of whatever was coming. A platform rose from the center of room, smoke and dust rising around it, obscuring whatever the platform held from view. Lasers shot through the air, forming a type of barrier around the platform. Obviously to have such a high level of containment, Zim' latest plot had to be extremely dangerous.

I felt a growing sense of dread fill me as the smoke cleared, revealing what would surely be my doom. It was horrible, it was terrible, it was…a kitten? What? Surely this had to be some joke, but there it sat: a small orange tabby kitten. It looked at its surroundings curiously with wide green eyes before beginning to wash its paw, obviously not seeing anything interesting.

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud and reveal my hiding place. Zim was planning on bringing me to submission…with a kitten? I mean, yeah, it was a cute cat, but c'mon, give me some credit here. Kittens are pretty low on the scale of things that would have me cowering in fear.

"Aww! It's a kitty! HI KITTY!!" Gir shrieked, bringing my focus back to the task at hand. The small robot was standing just outside of the laser cage, waving madly at the kitten. The animal looked at him like he was insane. Knowing the way Gir acted most times, the animal's diagnosis wasn't far off.

"Yes, Gir, it is. Now get away from it before it unleashes its TERRIBLE DOOM upon your tiny metal head!" Zim announced, pulling the robot away from the cage. Gir looked as if he was about to cry for a moment and then magically pulled a Suck-Munkee out of his head and started to, well, suck. From the mess he was making, the flavor was obviously chocolate bubble gum, and I felt my stomach begin to turn.

"While Ulltra-Pipi was ultimately a failure," Zim continued, "The initial reasoning for that plan remains the same: humans love anything CUTE to the point of STUPIDITY!! The Dib-human is no exception. I have programmed this hideous cat-beast to be a creature of pure, unadulterated DISTRUCTION, its disgusting CUTENESS bringing the human into submission before unleashing its wrath. Pretty neat, huh?"

Gir looked up from his Suck-Munkee. "I DON'T GET IT!" He screamed before dumping the contents of his cup onto his own head. Zim shot him a look and then began busying himself at the control panel of the computer. He pressed a button and an assortment of robotic arms appeared seemingly from no where. Using a joystick, the alien began maneuvering the arms, one petting the cat to keep it calm, while the others performed a various amount of tests on the small animal.

It was then that my body decided that it was going to rebel against me: my nose began to tickle. The petting of the kitten was making fluffs of fur fly into the air, which had mad their way over to me, making me feel as if I was going to sneeze. I could feel the pressure building in my sinuses and fought to hold it back. After much internal struggle, I was able to hold the sneeze in, but not without a guttural little whimper as the air tried to push past my closed lips. I felt panic and adrenalin surge through my system as I stared, wide eyed at Zim, terrified that he had heard me. His attention hadn't wavered, however, from his experimenting and I let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't heard me over the noise from the mechanical arms.

The computer, however, seemed to be a different story.

"Umm, Sir?" The computer's voice broke though the noise.

"Not now, computer, can't you see I'm WORKING?"

"But Sir—"

"I said, not now!"

"Fine. Whatever." The computer resigned, indignantly.

Suddenly, without warning, the urge to sneeze rose, again. This time I wasn't able to stop it. It was loud. It was devastating to my mission. It was…kinda on the gross, wet sounding side. I slapped my hands over my nose and mouth in horror.

"Bless you." Zim said, automatically. His head then jerked up from his work, a quizzical expression on his face. He looked at Gir, who was now rolling around in the melted puddle of mess that was once his drink. "Gir, did you just sneeze?"

"BANANAS!" The robot answered.

"O-kay, I'll take that as a no…" His red eyes scanned the room, skimming past me. I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. My relief was premature, however, because I found myself in the next moment staring into ruby orbs that, from across the room, were staring at me. Zim's face showed an expression of surprise for a moment before he shot into action.

"THE DIB! THE DIB IS IN MY BASE! COMPUTER!"

"What?!"

"Why didn't you tell me there was an INTRUDER!"

"But I—"

"SILENCE! DEFENCIVE MODE!"

The computer sighed and mumbled a few select curses under its breath. Laser guns and more robotic arms appeared everywhere from nowhere.

By this time I was already on my feet and running towards the exit. If I could find an exit, that is. I jumped and dove over and under arms that grabbed at me. I dodged lasers, searching blindly for the way I had come in. One of the robotic arms miscalculated an attack and knocked Zim into the control panel. Reaching out automatically to catch himself, his hand hit a small red button. The laser cage that had been surrounding the Doominator kitten flickered and then disappeared. The kitten, realizing that it was finally free, flew into a destructive frenzy, slashing through wires with its small, but enhanced claws, wanting to find an exit to the lab as much as I did.

I skidded and slid on the puddle of Gir's discarded Suck-Munkee right at the exact moment a severed electrical wire that had been flipping though the air like an agitated snake landed on the ground—into the puddle that I now found myself standing in.

The pain took a few seconds to register in my senses as the electrical current, conducted by the liquid on the ground, passed through my body. It was excruciating. I could smell the hair on my body burning and my jaw locked, grinding my teeth together. I could taste copper and I realized that the force had caused me to bite the tip of my tongue off. My body shook and convulsed and finally, after what felt like hours, I landed in a smoldering heap on the ground. Zim must have cut the power, realizing what was happening.

I felt him standing over me, but I couldn't open my eyes or move any part of my body. I felt completely disembodied, except for the pain. Oh, god the pain. My nerves were on fire, the sensations overwhelming. I instinctively wanted to scream and cry, but my body wouldn't respond. I suffered in silence.

Above me, Zim was ranting. "My lab! Look at what you did to my beautiful lab! This will take WEEKS to rebuild! DAMN IT, Dib-Stink!" He kicked me in the ribs with his boot, letting out a confused, questioning, "Eh?" when I didn't respond.

He nudged me, gently this time. "Dib-Stink? Hello?" He kneeled at my side, his gloved hand at my neck, searching for a pulse. "Ok, you're not dead, so what's wrong with you?" He stood and somehow I knew he was striking a triumphant pose. "Obviously you are too weak to stand up to the awesome power of ZIM!"

There was a few moments of silence, and he nudged me, again. "Ok, Dib, you can stop cowering on the floor, now, I'm not in the mood to destroy you." More silence. Zim huffed, frustratingly.

At that moment, my cell phone began to ring. I heard Zim rummaging through my bag for it, and the tone become louder as he finally produced it. It clicked open.

"DIB! Dad's home. Stop playing with Zim and get back here. I'm hungry," my sister's voice announced angrily from the phone.

"Dare you shout at the amazing ZIM?!" Zim responded.

"Zim? What the hell are you doing answering Dib's phone?"

"The Dib can't talk right now."

"Well then tell him he needs to come home. Now. Or he will be plunged into his own personal nightmare world."

"No, Dib-Sister, you don't understand. Dib CAN'T talk. Something is wrong with him. He's unconscious."

"What? What the hell were you guy's doing?"

"He so RUDELY snuck into my base and let loose my newest PLAN for world conquest. The lab is destroyed and your stinky brother was electrocuted. This seems to have a negative effect on your kind."

"OF COURSE that has a 'negative effect' on my KIND, Zim—it could kill him! Call an ambulance!"

"WHAT? The Earth medical drones HERE?! My mission would be compromised!"

"Take him to the upper level, idiot. Make up some story to tell the paramedics. I'm telling Dad. We'll be there, soon."

"You want me to drag his STINKING carcass all the way up—"

"YES, ZIM! NOW DO IT! Oh, and Zim?"

"What." Zim sounded slightly dejected, now. Gaz had that effect on people.

"If he dies because of your stupidity, I will personally rip your squeegally spooch out through your nose." Her voice was deadly calm. Zim gulped and I heard the phone click shut, again, ending the call.

Through the pain I was a bit surprised at Gaz's concern. Part of me wanted to believe it was because I'm her brother and she loves me, but the more sensible part reminded me that she just didn't want me dead because then it would deprive her of the honor of doing it herself.

My awareness of the outside world faded, then, and with that, did the pain. The disembodied sensation became more prominent and it felt as if I were floating. I knew something was happening, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was I dying? Was this what it was like? Was a really bothered by that thought? There was so much I had wanted to accomplish, and getting killed by a stupid accident was not one of those tasks. However, I just couldn't seem to arouse the energy it took to really care at this point. The darkness was strangely comforting. Maybe this was what it was like in the womb.

Faintly, in the back of my mind I heard the sound of sirens and voices. I felt hands touch me, wires and tubs attach to my skin and my nose. I became unbearably sleepy and it was becoming too much of a chore to hold on to the waking world. I decided to give myself up to the urge to sleep. Somehow I knew I would wake up. Somehow I knew I was safe.

Or at least I hoped I was.

I gave myself up to the black that had become my universe and floated over the stars.

A/n: Ok, time to stop. No, this is not the end of the story, just the chapter. I'm going for something a little less angsty this time, and hopefully a little more in character.

The title of the story comes from a Nancy Sinatra song by the same name. It's pretty good. Everyone should download it. The full line is "You only live twice, or so it seems—one life for yourself and one for your dreams." I thought it fit.

I'll be updating this story alternating with updates to "Fake Plastic Life" at least for the first few chapters, because, after all, I still do need to finish FPL. I just wanted to get this one started.

Sooo…R and R, people! Please? The Taco commands you!

-j


	2. Maker

A/n: Wow. Seriously. Just wow. I'm completely amazed and taken aback by the amount of positive response that I got from the last chapter. You all are absolutely amazing. Cos holy crap. Thank you thank you thank you. Really. You all made me feel loved.

I hope now that I don't disappoint you, 'specially since you people seem to think that I'm funny….

DibMagician: I'm sorry if this seems like something you've read before. Hopefully I'll deviate into something original, but if it still sounds similar, let me know. I would hate to have it look like I was copying someone else's idea. Specially cos I wouldn't know who I was copying.

Oh, and Dibsthe1—whiskey, my friend, lots and lots of whisky.

Ps: Gee, can anyone guess my current occupation by this chapter? o.O

Pps: Holy Fucking Shit…I'm in hysterics right now. You see, I actually finished this chapter. 24 fucking pages. The longest chapter I've written for anything so far. It was magical, it was perfect…and then…and then I clicked the wrong fucking button and…it all…went away. I accidentally shut the window, my sleep deprived brain not realizing that I hadn't saved since I started this damned thing. That doesn't happen. That doesn't fucking happen. Its 3am, I've been working on this chapter off and on throughout the day, and for the past 4 hours straight, and now… I have to do it all over again. This is the kind of stuff that causes people to take sniper rifles to the tops of buildings. Seriously. I can't stop laughing. I think I just went insane. And I'm staring at the blankness under this note and all I can think, with tears in my eyes is: I DON'T WANT TO WRITE IT AGAIN!!!!! …I'm gonna go cry, now. Enjoy the sub-par-ness of the re-write of this chapter.

DISCLAIMER (cos I forgot on the last chapter, cos I suck…): I don't own IZ.

You Only Live Twice

PART TWO: In which Dib meets his maker…sort of.

_Main Entry: **test**  
Pronunciation: 'test  
Function: noun  
Etymology: Middle English, vessel in which metals were assayed, cupel, from Middle French, from Latin testum earthen vessel; akin to Latin testa earthen pot, shell  
**1 a** chiefly British **: CUPEL** **b **(1) a critical examination, observation, or evaluation **: TRIAL**; specifically the procedure of submitting a statement to such conditions or operations as will lead to its proof or disproof or to its acceptance or rejection a test of a statistical hypothesis (2) a basis for evaluation **: CRITERION** **c** an ordeal or oath required as proof of conformity with a set of beliefs  
**2 a** a means of testing: as (1) a procedure, reaction, or reagent used to identify or characterize a substance or constituent (2) something (as a series of questions or exercises) for measuring the skill, knowledge, intelligence, capacities, or aptitudes of an individual or group **b** a positive result in such a test  
**3** a result or value determined by testing  
**4** **: TEST MATCH**_

I awoke to find myself sitting at a table, my head lying on the Formica surface, a small trail of drool leading from my mouth. As I opened my eyes, I noticed that my vision was a bit doubled and realized that I was lying on my glasses. Great. Now they would be crooked till I worked up the patience to straighten them out again. I really needed to talk Dad into getting me contacts.

I raised my head and took in my surroundings I seemed to be at a restaurant. The people in the booths around me shoveled food into their mouths like there was no tomorrow, in between barking orders at the waitresses, who rushed from table to table doing their masters' biddings.

"Where…am I?" I asked the air.

"The clichéd first question out of every new comer's mouth." A voice stated. I jumped, startled and spun around quickly to face the owner of the voice. A man in what looked to be his late 20's sat across from me. He wore a tight maroon long sleeved shirt, his hair spiked and dyed an unnaturally vivid red. A pair of oval shaped wire framed glasses rested on his nose.

"Who are you?"

"And there's question number two. Congratulations, Dib, you've finally achieved normality."

I stared at the strange man, trying to figure out how he knew my name. I felt a familiar wave of paranoia come over me, propelling me to my feet on top of the booth seat. "Who are you?!" I shouted, pointing madly, "Where am I?! How do you know my name?! And what the hell is that?!" My finger's direction changed, pointing towards a hideous blobby mass that covered the entire back section of the restaurant.

"That?" He nodded his head towards the monstrosity, "That's just Larry. Hi, Larry!" The strange man called, raising his hand in a small wave.

The creature's eyes seemed to slide across the surface of his body before coming to rest on us. It raised a chicken leg in acknowledgement before shoving it into its horrible gaping maw.

"Now sit down, kid, will ya?" The man continued, "You're making a scene, and believe me, this is one place you _don't_ want to be kicked out of. You're lucky that you're even here."

It came to my attention, then, that the restaurant had become eerily quiet. A quick scan of the room proved that every eye was now on me. Food dripped from forks suspended in the time and space that existed between the plate and the mouth. I felt the blood rush to my face as I muttered a hasty apology and sank back into my seat. Around me, the world continued on its merry way.

A waitress approached us, then. She wore the same ugly uniform as the rest of the girls—baggy blue polo shirt and black pants, her brown hair pulled up into a pony tail. The apron that was tied around her waist was stained with what looked to be an assortment of condiments. An extremely fake smile was plastered on her lips and her eyes behind her black horn rimmed glasses seemed to be glazed over with a mixture of exhaustion and disinterest.

"Hello, and welcome to the Down Town Café." She greeted, seeming to look right through us, "I'm Erin, and I'll be taking care of you boys, tonight." Her eyes seemed to focus as they fell on my mysterious companion, and her face brightened, her smile becoming genuine. "J! I haven't seen you in ages! I was beginning to think that you forgot about me."

The man across from me smiled back at our server, "The boss has been keeping me busy." He explained, shrugging slightly.

"I can imagine." Erin replied. Her gaze turned to me and she tilted her head, "New case?" She inquired.

"Oh!" the mysterious man—J—jumped a bit in his seat. "Erin, this is Dib, Dib, Erin." He introduced, motioning to each one of us in turn, "Be careful, though, Dib, I wouldn't get too close. She may look innocent, but she's been known to bit the heads off of full grown chiwawas in one bite."

"Now, now, J," Erin admonished, chuckling, "you exaggerate. It wasn't a _full_ grown chiwawa." She grinned, and then squinted her eyes a bit, scrutinizing me. "Yup, he's defiantly one of yours, J—the trench coat is a tell tale sign. But…why is his head so big? I mean it's huge! You could fit a small child in that thing!"

"Hey! What's wrong with my jacket?" I demanded, defensively, "And my head is not big!"

Erin laughed again before returning into waitress mode, her eyes losing their luster behind her glasses, "What can I get for you guys to drink?" She asked.

I was not to be deterred. "No, I'm serious, what's the big deal?! My head isn't any bigger than anyone else's! I mean, yeah, it's sort of on the round side, but that doesn't make it unnaturally huge! I mean, look at my sister! Her head is like a freakin' beach ball and nobody says anything to her! Why—" My tirade was cut short by J leaning across the table and clamping on tanned hand firmly over my mouth, his finger and thumb pinching my nose shut. I flailed my arms around helplessly as I struggled to breath.

He turned to Erin, "Dib here will have a large Classic Poop, and I'll have a Diet." He ordered. Erin nodded in understanding and made her way back to the kitchen.

J's eyes were on me, now, "You're making a scene, again, and it's bothering me, so I'll give you a choice. You can either shut up and listen and I'll take my hand off of your face, or I'll keep it here until you pass out and then we'll start all over again from 'where am I'. But then I will be very, very irritated, and I don't like being irritated, which means _you_ won't like me irritated. It's up to you, Dib. Are you going to be good?"

Being deprived of air can put certain things into perspective very quickly. I nodded my agreement and gasped as the hand was removed from my mouth. I laid my forehead on the table, thanking it internally for it's coolness as I felt the blood drain from my head back into the rest of my body.

Erin returned with our drinks, then, and placed them on the table in front of us. I grabbed mine, quickly and drained half of it in one gulp.

Erin tucked the tray under her arm and produced an order pad and a pen from her apron pocket. "You guys getting any food?" She asked, her pen poised and ready.

"Not right now, Erin," J answered, "it would probably be best to eat _after_ I explain everything to him. Sometimes they don't take it too well, and I'd hate for you to have to clean up the mess."

"Ick." She replied, scrunching up her nose. She shrugged and put the pad away, tucking the pen into her pony tail. "Well, just shout if you need anything, alright? Good luck!" With that she was gone, moving on towards her other tables, her eyes scanning for empty glasses as she went.

J turned back to me and took a sip of his drink. "Now then—"

"You still haven't told me where I am or what I'm doing here." I demanded, "Or who you are and how you know my name. Is this another one of Zim's illusions? Cos if it is, I'm not going to—" J gave me a look, cutting me off.

"You know, maybe if you would let me get a word in edgewise, I would be able to explain this stuff to you, Hmm? Did it ever occur to you to _stop talking_ and just _listen_ for a moment?"

I closed my mouth. He had a point. Even if this was one of Zim's traps, panicking wasn't going to solve anything. I motioned for him to go on.

"I see I have your attention, now. Good. Just drink your Poop and listen. I want you to think back—what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" I asked, confused.

J sighed, "It has everything to do with anything. The more you remember the easier it is for me to explain what is going on. So just…focus, alright? What is the last thing that you remember?"

I frowned slightly, but did as he asked, furrowing my brow in concentration. I remembered something about a cat…and Zim…and a wire…and…pain somehow connected to a puddle of Suck-Munkee…That's it!

"I was spying on Zim, and ended up getting electrocuted when his Uber-Kitten plan escaped—oh my god! That horrible kitten! It could be loose in the city! I have to stop it!" I rose quickly to my feet, my body tensed to run out the door and save the world. J's hand reached quickly across the table and stopped me.

"The city is _fine_, Dib. The kitten is contained. Stop worrying about Zim for one second and focus on yourself for once. This has nothing to do with the fate of the world, this only has to do with _you_." I hesitated and then sank back into my seat. J nodded and released my sleeve, sitting back against the booth on his side.

"Now then," J began, taking another sip of his soda, I followed suit, "yes, you were electrocuted while spying on Zim. The force was enough to separate your soul from your body, which is what landed you here."

"Separated my soul from my body?" I echoed, bewildered, "Does…does this mean I'm in heaven?"

J snorted, "Heaven isn't this clean, kid."

I looked around at the grease stained walls, the grimy tabletops. If this was clean, I would hate to see what dirty was. I subconsciously began to re-evaluate my religious views.

I felt myself frowning, "If this isn't heaven then…is it hell? That can't be right, I mean, I know I haven't been the _best_ person in the world, but I couldn't have done anything bad enough to get myself stuck in hell, right?"

J shook his head in the negative, "No, no, this isn't hell, either. You see, you weren't supposed to do anything stupid enough to get yourself killed for quite a while, yet, so when your soul got separated, it caused a bit of a glitch, seeing as how this isn't your time. The system didn't know where to file you so it sent you here. To Limbo. A space somewhere in between heaven and hell."

"Limbo…in between heaven and hell…" I repeated these words, my mind trying to catch up and comprehend all of the information it had received. "If I'm in limbo…that means…does that mean I'm a ghost?! WOW! That's awesome!"

"Now I never said—" J tried to interrupt. I was too immersed in my excitement to pay attention.

"Man, this is great! I'm a ghost! I'm walking proof of everything I've tried to expose! I am my own life's work! Just think of all the cool stuff I can do, now! There's no way that Zim can track me spying on him—I'm invisible! The whole non tangible thing could be a problem, considering I can't touch anything, but…I know! I could possess someone and talk them into exposing him _for_ me!"

"But your not—" J tried again. I still wasn't paying attention.

"That's it. I can just wait and find someone who's holding a séance. And then possess their body! I can write out Zim's location and have them take the evidence to the Swollen Eyeballs—no, better yet—the President! With government exposure, Zim will be captured, and they could still name the autopsy video after—"

"DIB!" J shouted, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me from my reveries, "You're not a ghost!"

"I'm…not?" I asked, disappointed.

"No." He answered, releasing my shoulder and sitting back. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Man, I've never seen anyone that excited to be dead—which you're not by the way."

"I'm not? But you said—"

"You're in a coma, Dib. I told you that your soul separated from your body, yes, but that body is still alive back on Earth. It's being kept that way by machines, sure, but it's still, for all extensive purposes, alive."

"But—"

"You know," J began, sitting upright in his seat, "maybe it would just be easier to show you."

"Huh?"

J snapped his fingers and instantly we found ourselves in a hospital room. The smell of disinfectant invaded my nostrils and I immediately began to feel uncomfortable. The room was too cramped, too cold, too white. That constant beeping of life-support machines caused my spine to twitch in time. I hated hospitals with a passion, having spent so much of my child hood there while Mom was sick.

I noticed now that we were standing that J stood almost a full foot taller than me and was wearing skin tight black leather pants tucked into black boots that were covered in an assortment of zippers and buckles. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a gothic catalogue. Although with my black pants, gray t-shirt, boots and trench coat, someone could probably say that same thing about me.

"You're on the other side of that curtain," J stated, nodding across the room, "take a look."

"You know, how 'bout we don't and say we did, huh?" I begged, a knot forming in my stomach, "I believe you, now, really. Can we just go?"

J shook his head, "Nope, you have to go look for yourself." He gave me a little push.

"But—"

"Dib. Go. Now." Something in the man's voice told me not to argue anymore and I began to slowly make my way to the other side of the room.

I reached the curtain all too quickly and swallowed hard before reaching out to move the light blue barrier out of my way. I gasped, surprised, as my hand passed right thought the material. I spun my wrist in amazement, feeling every fiber touching my skin, or what I approximated to be skin, yet my intrusion didn't affect the curtain at all. I took a deep breath, held it and closed my eyes before stepping forward and phasing completely though the sheet.

No amount of mental perpetration could have prepared me for the condition of the body that lay on the bed. My skin was so pale that it was hard to tell where the starched white hospital sheet ended and I began. My normally slight frame seemed even smaller, somehow, probably because of the fact that I would have to be fed intravenously. Large dark purple bags hung under my eyes like bruises, making my skin look even more gaunt and pale, wires led from machines into my nose and wrist, pumping air and nutrients into my lungs and bloodstream. This was me? I was tempted to touch the figure, to assure myself of the fact that it was indeed real, but I held myself back, not wanting the experience of feeling my hand phasing though my body.

Standing there, looking at myself in this disembodied way, I was stuck with how clearly evident it was that the body is merely a shell, a vessel for the soul. Without the spiritual, that material is nothing more than a very complex, warm machine.

"UGH! Even in this so called SERILE environment, the place is covered with DISGUSTING GERMS! How is anyone supposed to regain their health while surrounded by such FILTY DIRTY….DIRT?!"

That voice! I realized for the first time that I was not alone on this side of the curtain. Zim stood by the wall, pacing madly, his arms waving around with the force of his frustrated ranting. Gaz sat in a chair not too far away, playing her GameSlave as usual. I recognized by the way she punched at the buttons, and the irritated scowl on her face that Zim's shouting was beginning to make her lose her concentration. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes when she messed up. Gir sat, in his dog costume, on the floor at my sister's feet, staring up at her with wide-eyes adoration. A puddle of drool was forming around him.

"Zim, your voice is annoying me. If I mess up this level I will be forced to doom you, and believe me—you will not enjoy it." My sister growled, continuing to punch at the buttons. Her eyes glanced in a moment of uncharacteristic paranoia from the small screen to Gir's staring eyes and back again. "And do you think you can make you're stupid robot stop that? He's giving me the creeps."

"I luuuurrrrvveee you!" Gir drawled in response. He leaped up and latched himself onto Gaz's leg, "LET'S MAKE US SOME BISCUITS!"

The force of Gir's attack on her leg, mixed with his shout caused Gaz to jump a bit, her fingers sliding off of the buttons of her handheld. The tinny "Game Over" music filled the room. Anger blazed in Gaz's eyes, her face contorting, an aura of pure evil beginning to glow around her.

"Damn it, Gir!" She seethed.

The robot looked up at her cutely, and then a hole opened up in the top of his suit. Reaching into his head, he produced a small cupcake. "Want a cupcake?" He asked, holding the pastry out to her.

She continued to hold her glare for a few moments and then sighed, seeming to deflate as the anger left her. "I give up." She resigned, closing the clamshell of her consol and taking the offered snack. I was amazed. I guess no one could resist Gir's insane adorableness.

"So Zim," Gaz began, taking the wrapper off of the small cake, "what are you doing here, anyhow. I thought you and Dib were 'mortal enemies' or something." Her eyebrows raised a bit, her face brightening in interest, "Are you going to strangle him in his sleep?"

"There is no honor in killing a weakened opponent." Zim answered, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Too bad." She mused, tossing the wrapper to Gir who caught and ate it in one move, "Well then, again, what are you doing here?" She took a bite of the cupcake and immediately spit it back out, her face screwed up in a look of utter disgust. "GIR! Is there TUNA in this cupcake?" She asked, horrified.

"I MADE IT MYSELF!" The sir unit explained, jumping up and consuming the cake out of Gaz's hand, almost taking the appendage with it. He smiled up at her, revealing a mouthful of mush.

"You're disgusting."

"YAY!" Gir answered, not fully understanding, earning another glare from Gaz as she wiped her hand on her plaid skirt.

"I am here because I want to make sure that your PRIMATIVE medical equipment doesn't damage the Dib-Worm any further." Zim answered, obviously unaware of the exchange that had just taken place, "I need him functioning properly if I am to prove my UTTER SUPERIORITY!" He turned to face her, stopping his pacing for the moment. "And what of you, Gaz-human, why are you here if you wish to see the Dib DESTROYED so badly?"

"Dad's making me stay and keep watch until he can find a cure, or something." She grumbled.

"Interesting." Zim answered. He gave my sister an analyzing look, "You know, Gaz, in my research I've noticed that normally human worm babies develop a DISGUSTING attachment to other members of their family unit."

"So?" Gaz asked, between gritted teeth.

"So, then why do you wish to see your brother in so much DELICOUS agony at the hands of ZIM?"

Gaz sighed, "There are always deviations from the norm, Zim." She explained. She paused a bit, seeming to choose her words carefully. "I_ guess_ he's ok." She stated, "But his stupid obsession with the paranormal just annoys the hell out of me. I mean, he had always been interested in it, but that interest just seemed to consume him after Mom died. It was like he was looking for a way to bring her back, and he just can't! I pisses me off."

"Hmmm, so the death of this parental unit is what caused the Dib-Worm's OBSESSION with all things paranormal, huh? Interesting." Zim mused, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah, whatever." Gaz answered, picking up her GameSlave, obviously ending her part of the conversation. She pause, however, before turning on the consol. "Oh, and Zim?"

"Hmm?" The alien answered, still lost in his own thoughts.

She fixed him with a steely glare. "If you use that information that I just told you against Dib, so help me I will plunge you into a nightmare world from which there will be no escape."

Something in her tone must have gotten through to the alien, because he stared at her, wide eyed comprehension and horror on his face, "Right. Of course." He answered.

Gaz glared at him for a few more moments and then nodded, turning back to her game. She quickly became immersed in it and all conversation ended. Zim began, once again, his frustrated pacing, and Gir began to break dace across the cold linoleum floor.

"You know, by now most people would have made idiots out of themselves by trying to get their loved ones' attentions." J's voice stated behind me. I jumped, startled. I didn't know he was there.

I shrugged in response. "I watch a lot of movies. I know they can't see me. Besides, Gaz wouldn't have talked that much if she knew I was here."

He nodded in understanding and then jerked his head in Gaz's direction, "So, is what she said true? You started being obsessed with the paranormal after you mother died?"

I nodded, "Yeah, but that wasn't the reason. I knew that I couldn't bring her back, no matter how long I searched for a way, just like Dad wasn't able to find her a cure, no matter how long he stayed down in his lab, experimenting. I really just…wanted to find her. I wanted to know that she was alright, wherever she was. While IW as searching for her, I found all sorts of other things that needed to be exposed and explained, and one thing just kinda led to another." I shrugged, "Sounds pretty dumb, huh?"

J shook his head, "No, not at all." He answered.

"Yeah, well…"I trailed off, not wanting to continue the conversation. It was then that a thought hit me. "Hey! If all that happened was that my soul separated from my body, then why can't I just, you know, jump back into it?"

J frowned. "You'd think it'd be that easy, but it's not." He answered.

"Why not?"

"Well…" He paused, "This would probably be easier to explain at the restaurant. Again he snapped his fingers and again we were instantly transported. I landed in my seat with a little jerk. Erin stood at the table, a bemused expression on her face.

"Hey, there you guys are!" She greeted, "I was just about to clear your glasses."

"Sorry about that Erin," J apologized, "We had to go visit Dib's body. Now I get to tell him the 'good part'."

Erin's scrunched up her nose, pursing her lips cutely, "Ick. I hate the 'good part'." She stated.

I was confused, "What's wrong with the 'good part'? I mean…it's good right?"

Their matching expressions of pity showed me more than words could about how wrong I was.

Erin shook her head and then laid a piece of paper on the table. "They're take care of this up front whenever you're ready." She looked at me, a sad smile on her face, "If you make it far enough, I'll be seeing you soon, kid. Good Luck!" She wished. She turned to J and nodded who gave a slight nod in return and then she turned and left, moving to bus the dishes off of another table.

I turned to J after the girl had left, "What does she mean, by 'If I make it far enough'? Why do I need luck? What's so bad about this 'good part'?" I picked up the paper that Erin had left, "And why do we have to pay for things in the afterlife?"

"We don't." J answered, taking the paper from my hand, "Not here, anyhow. If you had been sentenced to hell then you would have it, if only because those people don't know how to give up the ways of the living. This, however, is just Erin's idea of a joke. See? It's blank." He held the paper out to me. It was indeed empty.

He signed and took a drink of his soda, "As for the other questions, well. The 'good part' is that in order to be reinstated back into your body you have to prove that you're worthy?"

"What?"

"The Powers That Be don't want to bother themselves with corrupted souls. Why put back something that would just cause more damage to the world? While I'm not saying that that is the case here," he quickly stated, holding his hand up to stifle the protest that had been coming out of my mouth, "you are here for a reason. The rubber in the suit you had been wearing could have easily insulated you against _all_ of the electrical current instead of just enough to keep you alive. Which means that you are here for a reason, whether it be that your soul is corrupted somehow, or you need to learn something in order to continue to grow in the waking world, you have to pass the Seven Tests in order to be put back into your body."

"Seven Tests?" I repeated. This was becoming very complicated very quickly.

"Yes., the Seven Tests of the Seven Sins. You've heard of the Seven Deadly Sins, right?"

Finally, something I knew, "Uh-huh—Gluttony, Greed, Pride, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Lust, right?" I was slightly proud of myself for being able to answer and prove that I wasn't a _complete _idiot…even if I did only know them because I had seen the movie one night on HBO. But he didn't need to know that.

"Right. Good. Even though I have a feeling you only knew that because of that one film." He answered, a small smile on his face. Oops, ok, so maybe he did know that. I must have looked guilty because he chuckled a bit good naturedly. "Don't look so sheepish, Dib. It doesn't matter where you know the information from, just as long as you know what your up against.

"Now here is the nature of the Tests. You're going to be put into seven different situations, each embodying the essence of one of the Seven Sins. At some point during the scenario, you will be presented with a decision. If you make the right decision and resist the temptation of the sin, you pass and get to move onto the next Test."

"And…if I make the wrong decision?"

"You're soul stays in that scenario until your body dies in the material world. Then, depending on the severity of the sin, you will more than likely be cast into hell for eternity."

I gulped. That sounded like a pretty severe punishment for one bad decision. However, something bothered me, "But…that can't be _that_ hard, right? I mean I know that it's a test. All I have to do it watch out to see what sin I'm stuck in and then make the opposite decision. Right?"

"Nope."

"Oh." I muttered, my hopes deflated.

"Each scenario is kind of like an alternate universe. There is a Dib in every one, a Dib that is exactly like you, but changed a bit depending on events that may or may not have happened in his life. When you enter each of the tests you will become each Dib, absorbing his memories and such. To you, it will just seem like another day in your life. You will have no memory of who you truly are at all. You will just have to trust yourself to make the right decision when the time comes."

I was beginning to get nervous. The thought of having one wrong decision damn my soul to hell forever wasn't very comforting. I broke out into a cold sweat, my hands shaking.

"I don't know if I can do this, J." I stated.

"You just have to have faith in yourself, Dib. In the end, that's all that matters, anyhow." He stood, using his hands to push himself up from the table, "At any rate, we've wasted too much time already. The sooner you get started the sooner we can get you back home." He held his hand out to me. I shrank back into my seat, trying to make myself become smaller.

"I don't think I can do this." I repeated. I was acting like a child, I knew, but I was scared. That was to be expected, right?

He sighed, "Yes you can, Dib. I know it. C'mon," He put a fake smile on his face, "the only thing to fear…" he trailed off, obviously wanting me to finish the quote.

I stared at his outstretched hand and realizing that there was no way I could talk my way out of this one, took it, gasping a bit as he pulled me to my feet. "…is eternal damnation." I grumbled, dejectedly.

"That's the spirit!" J replied with false cheer, clapping me on the back. He faced me. "Are you ready?" He asked.

"No." I admitted, still shaking a bit.

"Good." He answered and snapped his fingers.

The world instantly melted away and I felt myself falling into oblivion. I tried to steel myself for whatever I was about to encounter, but I really had a bad feeling about what was to come.

---

A/n: Ugh. Finally. There's something profoundly redundant about typing a chapter all over again. It's not very fun. At all. This will teach me to quick save every few minutes. Bleh.

Ok, so it's time to play Guess That Reference! There are about four references to outside works in this chapter. Can you find them? Guess and win…a cookie. Oreo. Double Stuft, even. Yummmm. I'll prolly throw a reference or two into every chapter, if only because I think it's fun to do little things like that. Keeps my brain occupied.

Yeah, so I know, it's pretty easy to guess who J is, right? Please don't throw things. I was originally going to have Dib meet up with God, but then realized that if I'm keeping this in the "Jhonen-verse" then…God wouldn't really give a damn about Dib. He's still kinda hanging out, takin' a nap in his Lazy Boy. What would he care about one misplaced soul. Then I was thinking Johnny, or Dib's mom, but decided to go back to the God idea with a little twist. Cos if you think about it, in a way, Jhonen would be Dib's God. And hey, if I were to be in the kid's shoes, I would love to find out that my life was cooked up in some artist's head. That would make me very happy. But my apologies to Jhonen for stealing his likeness for this story. Though if you sue, the only thing that I can offer you is a messed up Tv from Goodwill and a super comfy chair with a cigarette burn in the arm, cos that's all I really own.

As stated above, see if you can guess my occupation by the location of Limbo. And if you can do that, then you can prolly guess who Erin is. (And, by proxy, my middle name). For those of you who hate SI's…I don't care. I'm going to have fun with this story, and it's really for my own personal amusement that I stick myself in. Don't worry, there isn't doing to be any fan-girl love story line between Erin and J or Dib or anyone, I really just thought it would be fun to put myself in a story. She may come back later on after a few chapters, because I have a strange scene in my head explaining J's relationship with Dib and then the nature of Fanfiction, but that won't be till 4 or 5 chapters in, yet…

But I'm rambling, and I should really go down to the computer lab and post this mofo before my computer decides to eat it or something.

Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, I wish I could mention you all by name the way I do in FPL, but there really are too many of you to keep straight. But I love you all. As always, please continue to R and R, and flames will be consumed and enjoyed like candy. Yummy…flame candy.

-j


	3. Money

A/n: Wow. So it's been a while since I updated this story, but finishing up FPL defiantly took top priority. (FPL is complete, by the way…and yes, this is a shameless plug saying that you should read it cos it's awesome. Man, I'm modest. )

Time to list the references in the last chapter:

-Down Town Café…this is a reference to the movie Monkybone. The main character is in a coma and sent to a place called "Down Town", which is basically limbo. If you haven't seen that movie, you should. It's based on a graphic novel and is directed by Henry Selik, who is the guy who directed Nightmare Before Xmas and James and the Giant Peach.

-Dib thanking the table for being so cool—a random reference to an old Bill Cosby standup. Cosby is really talking about thanking the toilet bowl for being so blissfully cool after throwing up after a long night of drinking, but that's what it reminded me of.

-"Heaven isn't this clean." Of course, this is a reference to JTHM where Nny goes to heaven and it's prolly the dirtiest place on earth. No one bothers to keep the place clean because everyone is too busy sitting in chairs being completely content.

-The movie that Dib saw on HBO—of course this is referring to the movie Se7en. Dibsthe1 gets an Oreo for that.

As for the Ghost thing that Dibsthe1 pointed out…if that was a reference, I didn't pick up on it. I've only ever seen the pottery scene from Ghost, so I wouldn't know. I was really just playing off of the automatic assumption that spirits are intangible. (Shruggy).

So now a warning: I guess I've done a pretty good job thus far keeping the characters, well, in character. This kinda stops, now. I'm going to try my best, but everyone now are different people. They're all the same, but in a different reality, so there will be some personality changes. I'm going to try and keep it to a minimum, but still, things are going to be a little different. Ages may change from chapter to chapter as well. The Dib we know, who's spirit is taking the tests is 15, but the Dibs he will become in each test may vary in age. Not much, but still, I'm clearing it up now so that there isn't any confusion.

Thank you all for your great reviews. 3

On with the show.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Zim. If I did, I wouldn't have to wait tables for a living…or would I?

You Only Live Twice

PART THREE: In which Dib comes into money.

_Main Entry: **greed** _

_Pronunciation: __'grEd__  
Function: noun  
Etymology: back-formation from greedy  
excessive or reprehensible acquisitiveness __AVARICE_

I don't think that I will ever know what woke me up that day—the ringing of the house telephone, or the explosion that shook the city, causing the books that I kept on the shelf above my bed to fall, hitting me on the head one by one.

Either way, the result was the same. I was now conscious and about to receive some earth shattering news.

"You're father is dead." the detached voice of the officer who had called me informed, "He must have miscalculated on one of his experiments because it exploded taking most of the lab and your father with it. I'm sorry for your loss."

For the next week my normally empty house was full of chaos. Relatives coming and going, the media knocking down the door and causing the phone to ring so much that we eventually just unhooked the damned thing. Our fridge was full for once, home made casseroles and pies lining the shelves and it amused me, not for the first or the last time how everyone seemed to think that food would make everything all better. "You're an orphan, now, kid!" the dishes seemed to cry every time I opened the refrigerator door, "Eat up! A full belly will counteract an empty heart!"

My sister and I were both in a state of shock, it seemed. We neither spoke about it, nor shed a tear, instead allowing our family to grieve for us. We were no strangers to death, having watched our mother die of cancer years before, and, while we both loved our father dearly, it was very hard to mourn someone whom you had really only communicated with through floating transmission screens and post it notes. While the world cried for the loss of the creator of Super Toast, Gaz and I sat in the background, watching the scene with the detached indifference of someone watching a rather boring television program.

Finally the seemingly ongoing train of relatives ceased and the media found someone else to hound for the moment and Gaz and I found ourselves in the office of my father's lawyer. He was a short, mole-like man who couldn't seem to keep his glasses from sliding off of his tiny nose.

"There are two main points of concern here, kids," Mr. Snipes stated, folding his hands over the papers of my father's will, "The first being who will gain legal guardianship over Gaz, the other being who will take your father's place as the head of Membrane Labs, Inc."

"What about the money?" My sister asked, her voice a robotic monotone. She was always the blunt one.

Mr. Snipes raised an eyebrow and took a glance at one of the papers beneath his sweaty palms, "Each of you have been put aside half of your father's estate; trust funds to be made available when you turn 18. Dib, yours is already active, seeing as how your birthday was a few months ago, correct?"

"Yeah." I answered, glancing downwards. He was right, my birthday _had_ been about two months ago, but I wasn't really 18, yet. There had been a mistake on my birth certificate, and therefore the rest of my records, stating that I was born a year earlier than I really was. My father was always too busy to get around to changing it, and I had forever, it seemed, lost a year of my life. But there was no use correcting it, now. For once my dad's carelessness proved to be to my advantage. Being legally 18, whether or not I really was chronologically, I now not only could access my trust fund, but, as a legal adult, I didn't have to worry about guardianship issues. Gaz, however…

"Wait, what's this whole 'guardianship of Gaz' thing all about?" My sister was demanding, finally realizing what had been said before, "I'm 16 years old. I've been taking care of myself since I was 7. I think I'm fully capable of legal emancipation."

It was true. She had been taking care of herself since she was a kid. We both had. However, I felt a twinge of annoyance that she hadn't acknowledged the fact that she had not been _fully_ alone throughout her childhood. She had had someone to cook her dinner and tuck her in, whether she admitted it or not.

"That may be the case, Miss Membrane, but in order to be emancipated you need the signature of your parent and I'm sorry to say that that is one thing you seem to be lacking."

Maybe it was my annoyance a few moments earlier; maybe it was the cold and emotionless way that Mr. Snipe had used my sister's new found orphandom against her; maybe it was the way that Gaz's eyes grew hard and her face contorted in an expression that I knew all too well—one that showed she was hurt and angry and now out for blood. Whatever the reason, even I was surprised at the words that decided to come out of my mouth before she could leap across the desk and rip out our lawyer's throat.

"I'll do it."

Two pairs of eyes turned to me, both sets full of surprise, and in Gaz's case, a little mistrust.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Snipe managed.

"I said I'll do it. I'll take over legal guardianship of Gaz. I mean," I continued, talking quicker in an attempt to ignore the daggers that were shooting from my sister's eyes. Man, I was saving her from getting shipped off to some relative or foster home somewhere, you would think that she would be a little grateful, "if it's just for legal purposes, why not? It's only for two more years, and this way she could finish school here in town and it's not like she and I haven't been taking care of each other our whole lives. Why uproot her and possibly cause more emotional distress? I think that the best place for her would be in her own home, with me."

I finished my little speech and let out a determined breath. Mr. Snipe raised a bushy eyebrow at me, and then cleared his throat. "Yes, quite. A very good argument, Dib. I will represent you, then, at the guardianship hearing on Wednesday. Now for the next order of business."

Gaz was glaring at me, an unreadable expression on her face. Finally she just turned away, letting out an annoyed breath and shaking her head. That familiar annoyance crept up into my stomach. Man, some people.

"The spot for the head of your father's company, " the lawyer was still speaking, "in this case, I actually have very specific instructions. This seat is to be given to the Professor's son, Dib."

I was shocked. "W-what?!" I stammered. On the other side of me, Gaz mirrored my open mouthed expression of shock.

"That's what it says, here," Snipe explained, picking up a paper from his desk and reading aloud, "'I, Professor T. Membrane, leave the position of President of Membrane Labs, Inc. to my son, Dib.' See?"

He handed me the paper. I could feel Gaz's hair brush my neck as she leaned closer to read over my shoulder.

"Huh. Well would you look at that?" I breathed. Gaz snorted and straightened back up in her seat. As I handed the paper back to Snipe, something stuck me, "But…isn't there someone more capable of the position than I am? Some CEO or something?"

"Probably," Snipe answered, not hiding his distaste on the issue, "but your father's wishes are clear. You are to assume title and duties of President of the company. That's all there is to it." He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He looked at his watch, then, and stood, shuffling the papers back into a neat stack, "Well, there really isn't much else to do, here, and I have another meeting that I must attend." Gaz and I both rose to join him, "The guardianship hearing is set for Wed, so I will speak to you again before then." He shook both our hands over the desk and then sat back down, obviously dismissing us, leaving us to see ourselves out. Which we did. Quickly. That man gave me the creeps. Part of my brain was nagging at me that he was probably one of the mysterious Mole People, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Gaz was on edge enough, and bothering her with my paranormal observations was a sure way to get punched in the stomach.

-

"What the hell was that all about?" My sister demanded, shrewdly as I drove us home from the lawyer's office.

She had been quiet the majority of the drive and I knew that her silence had been too good to be true. Gaz keeping quiet about something always meant that she was just stewing in her own anger, waiting for it to reach the point where she would be able to inflict physical pain if necessary and her conscience wouldn't interfere. If she even had a conscience that is. I looked at her with one eye, keeping the other trained on the road. "What the hell was what all about?"

"That. That whole volunteering to be my guardian thing. What the hell? I'm 16 years old, Dib, I don't need a fucking babysitter."

I sighed. I loved my sister, honestly I did, but sometimes I really just wanted to slap her silly. I mentally cursed Dad for never being around to teach her some manners. "What would you rather I did, Gaz, huh? Sat there and let him ship you off to some relative?"

"I would _rather_ have been left _alone_." She sneered.

"Well that wasn't going to happen. You heard Snipe—the only way that you could become emancipated would be if a parent signed the paper. In case you hadn't noticed, we're fresh outta those. I'm all you have left, Gaz, unless you want to go live with Aunt Nora and her cats. Or maybe Gramma Jane—she could always use someone to scrape her bunions."

We were pulling into the driveway. As I shut off the car, I could feel Gaz's eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. "I hate you." she stated, spitting the words out through clenched teeth. She unbuckled her seatbelt angrily and exited the car. I followed her example. By the time I shut the car door, she already had unlocked the one to the house.

"Do your homework!" I called to her as she walked into the house.

"You're not my father!" She screamed back, slamming the door.

"Thank God for that!" I shouted after her, even though I knew that the only person who could hear me was the neighbor, "If I were I would have slapped the doctor for giving me such a bitch as a child!" I ran my hand through my hair, ignoring the stare of Mr. Harrison next door who was watering his front lawn. "Fucking ungrateful brat," I muttered under my breath as I made my way up the walk, "I _should_ just let her go to Gramma Jane's. I don't have to put up with this shit."

But I knew I would. In the end, I always did.

-

My first day as president of my father's company was a hard one. No one seemed to appreciate my being there, going so far as to completely ignore me and even giving me wrong directions whenever I asked, so I wound up lost and late for every one of my meetings. I could understand their hostility, though. I mean, how would I feel if I were in their shoes and some punk kid straight out of high school became my boss, solely because his father kicked the bucket?

I felt almost embarrassed to hold this position of power and really wondered what my father had been thinking (or smoking) whenever he had written his will. Did he think that putting me in charge of his company would finally make me interested in "real science"? That I would follow in his footsteps purely by default? If this were the case, than he wasn't nearly as smart as everyone seemed to think.

Six o' clock found me in my office, my head on the desk, wanting a cigarette, even though I didn't smoke. What I wouldn't give to, at this moment, be getting my ass kicked by Zim's gnomes or something instead of being here, in my father's old office, despised and ignored by everyone around me. A little voice in my head told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. I told it to go to hell.

There was a knock on my door. Raising my head from the desk, I sat up, straightening out my dress shirt and tie. The last thing I wanted was for the enemy to see me at a moment of weakness.

"Come in," I called, after I was fully situated.

The door opened revealing a strongly built man wearing a cornflower blue tie that matched his eyes. He had stylishly spiked black hair and looked to be in his early 30's. He smiled as he entered, standing in the room as if he owned the place. Immediately alarms went off in the back of my mind, but I pushed them away, attributing them to my treatment thus far.

"Hi," he greeted, waving a little, "Dib, right?"

I nodded.

"Hey, I'm Steve. Steve Richmond. How are you?" He introduced himself, walking over to my desk, hand outstretched.

I took his offered hand and shook it, "I could be better. This has all been kind of overwhelming." I admitted.

He nodded, smiling while retracting his hand, "I figured as much, which is why I thought it would be a good idea to come by and introduce myself and see if you wanted to go to the bar downstairs and grab a drink. Take the edge off a bit."

I smiled, "Thanks, but I'm not really old enough to drink, yet."

"You think that they're going to card the son of the famous Professor Membrane? Nonsense. No excuses. If you want to fit in around here, you're going to have to show the common man that you're not out to get them. You may be the boss, but you're still just an Average Joe underneath. Best way to do that is over a beer. What do you say?"

I thought for a moment. He did have a point. And it's not like I had anything else to do at the moment. I nodded, agreeing. "Alright, sure, why not?"

"That's the spirit, kid!" Steve exclaimed, slapping me on the back with enough "friendly" force to almost send me flying across the room. He motioned for me to leave the room ahead of him and I locked the door behind us.

Conversation lapsed as we made our way to the elevator and I scanned my mind for something to say. "Uh…I like your tie." I managed.

Steve grinned, and held it out, inspecting it a little, "Yeah? Huh. Well it is Tuesday."

I nodded my head in agreement, as if I understood what the hell he was talking about. In reality, I hadn't a clue.

-

"You see, what your problem is, kid," Steve was saying, one hour and four beers later, "is that you have no appreciation for the finer things in life."

"Excuse me?" I slurred. Maybe four beers was a little much, considering that I had really only drank twice before, once as an experiment with Zim to test his tolerance as apposed to a "normal" human, and the other after my first girlfriend, Meredith, had broken up with me. Both had ended with my head in the toilet and Gaz blaring obnoxiously angry goth metal the next morning.

"Look at yourself. Where did you get that shirt and tie?"

I looked down at my apparel. What was wrong with it? I had bought both for Homecoming junior year from Structure. Steve laughed at this answer, drunkenly.

"Structure? Kid, do you know how much you're making right now?"

Honestly, I had no clue. I shook my head.

"What? You mean you never took a little sneaky peek at your father's tax statements?"

I shook my head again. Steve sighed and motioned for me to lean closer. The number he whispered in my ear almost made my head explode. Wow. That was…a lot. Just think of all the paranormal investigation equipment I could buy with that! And I could easily put both myself and Gaz through college, maybe even help Zim fix up his house…

"And I saw that hunk of junk you call a car. Honestly, Dib, a Cavalier? What are you thinking?" Steve's voice brought me back to the matter at hand.

"Hey, I happen to like my car!" I stated, defensively, motioning to the bartender to bring me another beer.

"Yeah, well, still. It's a kid's car. Something for someone who doesn't seem to realize how good they got it. You're president of the company, now, my man—it's time for something with a little more style, a little more pizazz. I know," Steve slapped his hand on the bar with the force of his idea, "let's go car shopping."

I nearly spit my beer out. "Now?"

He shrugged, "No time like the present."

"But it's almost eight at night! No where's going to be open!"

He shrugged again, "I know a place. Come on, kid, what are you afraid of?"

I searched my mind for more excuses why I shouldn't go with this man and trade in my Cavalier (lovingly christened "Eliza") for something new and "stylish". "I don't even have any money on me. We don't get paid till Friday!"

Here Steve gave a little chuckle and reached into his pocket. He slid a small, square piece of plastic to me across the bar. The Visa insignia stared up at me, seeming to almost wink. My name was embossed in gold. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Somewhere in the back of my mind, part of me was grinning like a freaking maniac.

"What…what's this?" I stammered in awe, almost afraid to touch the card. Choirs of angels were singing in my head.

"It's a company credit card. More specifically, _your_ company credit card. With this baby, you can get whatever you want. Cars, clothes, chicks, booze. The power is there in that itty bitty piece of plastic. You want something new? Buy it and write it off as a business expense. Nothing to it."

I picked up the card, holding it in front of my alcohol infused eyes. A strange sense of power washed over me. Whatever I want, huh? I never thought anything like this could ever happen. I felt Steve place his hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see him grinning, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes.

"So how about it, kid? Ready to go get some wheels?"

I glanced at the card, back to him, and then back at my ticket to financial freedom. I felt a grin stretch my lips, one that matched both my new found friend's, and the small, manic part of my mind that was doing the watootsie in the back of my head.

"Hells yeah," I breathed, "let's do this shit."

And we were off.

-

I pulled into my driveway feeling pretty damned good about myself. Turning off my car, I sat for a minute, reveling in the new car smell. Trading in "Eliza" had been hard, but my new acquisition—a brand new Dodge Viper convertible—was defiantly worth it. I got out of the car, locking it with the remote, smiling at the sound the little beeping thing made.

Whatever good mood I was in was shattered as soon as I entered the house.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Gaz demanded, pausing her video game.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, locking the deadbolt as I closed the door. "I went out with a friend from work. What do you care?"

She snorted, "You don't have friends, Dib, especially from work—you've only been there a day."

I shrugged, making my way towards the stairs, "So? I _am_ capable of relating to other human beings, you know. Unlike _some_ people."

Gaz glared at me as I passed by the couch, and then sniffed the air, "Have you been drinking? You smell like the bottom of a keg. And what was that beep sound I heard when you came in? That wasn't Eliza. Eliza doesn't beep."

"I bought a new car." I stated, nonchalantly.

"You what?!" She got up on her knees, sitting backwards on the couch so that she could face me, "Why? You love Eliza! Zim and I helped you pick her out! Why would you trade her in?"

"New job, new responsibility, new car. No big deal. Steve suggested it."

"Steve?"

"My new friend at work."

"How did you pay for it? And you drove it home drunk? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Credit card, and what do you care whether or not I was out on the road? I know how to handle myself, Gaz. You don't have to worry your pretty little head over me." I patted her on the head, patronizingly. She pushed me away harshly. I laughed and started walking again towards the stairs.

"Well while you were off playing drunken executive, that slimy Mr. Snipe came around wanting to talk about the hearing." Gaz announced.

Oh shit. The hearing. I had completely forgotten. "Uh…what did he say about it?" I asked, trying to cover up for my mental miscalculation.

"It's tomorrow, moron, or did you forget?"

"No, I remembered," I lied, "again, what did Snipe want?"

"Just to go over some last minute details. I told him that you would give him a call whenever you got in."

"Thanks, I'll do that. Goodnight, Gaz." I began the long trek up the stairs. Gaz's voice followed me as I walked.

"Wait, you put a _car_ on a _credit card_?!" She called, seeming to just realize it.

"Goodnight, Gaz," I shouted back, not wanting to get into it. As I opened the door to my room, I heard her voice again, floating up the stairs like smoke.

"We need groceries!"

"Get them yourself!" I yelled back. God, did I have to do _everything_ around here? As I slammed the door to my room I heard the sound of something glass breaking downstairs. Realizing that Gaz probably had thrown something out of anger, I fought the urge to go back down and make sure everything was ok. Fuck her, she could clean it up herself. Instead I went to bed and fell directly into a deep sleep, for some reason dreaming about a killer kitten and Suck-Munkees. Weird.

-

The next year flew by, seemingly eventless. I successfully obtained guardianship of Gaz, became more well liked at work, basically by spending as much time in the bar as I did in the office, bought a whole new wardrobe and new furniture for the house—gone were the Membrane lamps and busts that used to drive me crazy when I was younger. The house was _mine_ now, there was no reason to keep the tokens of my father's ego lying around.

"Any calls?" I asked my assistant, John, one Thursday afternoon when I returned from lunch. He was a tall, thin man with shocking red hair and oval glasses. He looked up from his computer screen and then down at the notes he had made while I was out.

"Umm, yes, Dick down in research called, wanting to know if you had given any thought to his proposal for more funding in that department," He began, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Ugh, so like him, always wanting more. Tell him I have it under consideration and conveniently 'lose' his proposal, will you?" I answered, not hiding the distaste from my voice.

John gave me a small disapproving look, but nodded, continuing, "Lana wanted to know if you two were still on for lunch tomorrow."

I snapped my fingers, "Damn, I completely forgot and made plans with Katie. Umm…call her and make some excuse about being in meetings all day or something and send her some flowers to make up for it. Daisies are her favorite…or was it roses…oh well, send her both, just in case, anything else?"

"No, that seems to be it."

"Good. Thanks." I opened the door to my office.

"Oh, wait, I forgot, your sister's school called."

I stopped halfway in the doorway to my office, and turned back to face my assistant. "Why?"

The man looked back down at his notes, "She needed a ride home, wasn't feeling well. I said that you would contact her."

I sighed, "Fine, I'll call her from my office. Thanks, John."

The man nodded and I closed the door to my office. Making my way to my desk, I sat down, took a deep breath and dialed the number for my sister's cell phone. It rang twice before she picked up.

"'Bout damned time."

"Well hello to you, too, Gaz, what did you need?" I tried to keep my voice as civil as possible. She and I hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately. Something about me becoming a selfish bastard. I told once, after a particularly long night with the guys from work her to look into the mirror, and she hadn't spoken much to me since.

"I'm sick, pick me up."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead, "Can't you call Zim to do it? I'm kinda busy."

"The only person who can sign me out is a _guardian_. Last I checked, that was you, asshole, so get your ass into that ugly convertible of yours and come do your guardianly duty and pick me up. I want to go home."

I felt my hand clench angrily on the receiver of my phone. Who the hell did she think she was? I should just hang up the phone and let the little bitch suffer. However, some irritatingly considerate voice in my head stated otherwise, and I gave in.

"Fine." I agreed, through clenched teeth, "I'll be there in 30. You had better fucking be dying."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and then my sister finally answered, "Alright, I'll be ready."

A click and silence on the line signaled that she had hung up. I replaced the handset of my phone and ran a hand through my hair. Honestly, sometimes I regretted agreeing to be Gaz's guardian. Things would have been much easier had I just allowed the system to take over. That nagging voice informed me that if I had, I never would have forgiven myself. For some reason I wasn't so sure that the voice was right.

-

Over the next few months, Gaz's calls from school became more and more frequent. Eventually I gave written permission for her to be able to sign herself out and for Zim to be able to pick her up if necessary. Things at the office were becoming more and more hectic and I really couldn't jump up and drive across town every time the girl had a tummy ache.

One day, however, I had a visiter. Zim barged into my office like he owned the place, John close on his heels.

"I'm sorry, sir," John was saying, "I tried to tell him that you couldn't be disturbed, but he wouldn't listen."

I glanced at Zim's narrowed eyes behind his purple contacts and then looked back to John. "It's ok, John, don't worry about it. Zim's a friend. It's all good."

John looked relieved for a moment, though as he closed the door I thought I noticed that same slight expression of disappointment or disapproval, but I could have been imagining things.

Once the door was safely closed I turned to my visitor. "Zim! It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, faking enthusiasm and ignoring the death look in his eyes.

"Well, you know, I figured since my _best friend_ hadn't been returning my calls, lately, I would come over for a visit and see how things were going. You seem to be doing well for yourself." He answered, motioning at the office and the view.

I chuckled, "Yes, well, I've been pretty busy. You know, that whole running a company thing. Tends to get in the way of other, less _pressing_ aspects of my life. You understand, don't you?" I walked over to the built in bookshelf where I had my personal bar set up, "Do you want something to drink? Scotch? Bourbon?"

"Your sister is dying." Zim announced, his voice emotionless.

I took in a breath, nearly spilling the drink that I was pouring as my heart dropped into my stomach but quickly regained my composure. "What?"

"She has pancreatic cancer, Dib. It runs in your family, does it not?"

I turned back towards him. He may be keeping his voice level, but his eyes betrayed him. They were shiny with emotion. I noticed slight burn marks trailing down each cheek, tell tale signs that he had been crying. Still I refused to acknowledge this announcement. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What do you mean 'what does that have to do with anything'?! It has EVERYTHING to do with anything! She's very sick, Dib. She is going to die. Haven't you noticed anything? Her stomach aches, her lack of appetite, or even being able to keep anything down if she does eat, her skin is yellow, her back is in constant pain—are you honestly that blind that you haven't seen it?"

I lowered my eyes, suddenly finding my shoes very interesting. "I…I've been busy." I explained, weakly.

"Psh, busy. Right." the alien scoffed, "This job is ruining you, Dib. You're barely even home anymore, and when you are you're too drunk to function correctly. No one had seen or heard from you in a month! Your sister was right—you are becoming like your dad."

That did it. "I am _not_ like my father." I growled, slamming my glass down on the shelf of my bar, sloshing the amber liquid over my hand.

Zim's eyes narrowed once more, seeming to stare into my soul. "Aren't you?" He mused. He shook his head then, letting out an annoyed breath. "That isn't the point, though. The point is that your sister is very sick and needs medical attention."

"And how do I know that you're telling the truth? If she's that sick, why hasn't she seen a doctor?"

Zim sighed, "You know that she hates hospitals. I had to basically blackmail the girl into letting _me_ examine her and we've all known each other for years. Either way the fact remains—she needs help. Now, I've done a lot of research and I think that I've found a way to create a cure."

"Well then do it!" I stated, "What do you need me for then? Go to it and make her better!"

"It's not that simple!" He answered, exasperated, "I don't have all of the materials necessary at my disposal, nor can I have my computer replicate them. In order to get everything I need, I would have to spend a pretty large sum of money. Money that _I_ don't have. _You_, however, do."

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes, "Oh, I see how it is. You need money and do you come to good ol' Dibby, huh? Well, here, I'll humor you for a minute, my _friend_: how much do you need?"

Zim looked embarrassed for a moment, and answered in a voice barely above a whisper: "Three thousand dollars."

He was insane. Or kidding me. Either way, he had to be. He honestly thought that I would just hand him over three thousand dollars? "You're nuts." I stated, "No, there's no way. I'm not going to just write you a check for three grand. Go look somewhere else."

"Damn it, Dib!" Zim shouted, anger making his face turn a darker green, "Your sister's life is at stake! Have a little fucking compassion, will you? A little humanity—"

"It really is funny how _you're_ lecturing _me_ about humanity, Zim." I laughed, interrupting him. "Really, just get out of here. I don't even want to look at you anymore. Your presence is making me nauseous." I walked over to my desk and sat down, making it well known that he was dismissed.

The alien, however, didn't seem to take the hint. "But Dib—" He began.

"LEAVE!" I shouted, pointing to the door. I picked up one of the papers that lined my desk, determined to ignore him.

I felt his gaze burning a hole though the paper that I was holding. "Fine." He spit, walking towards the door. Opening it, he turned towards me one final time, "But I'll have you know this, Dib-Stink: your sister's blood is on _your_ hands, now, not _mine_. At least I love her enough to try and save her, even if you don't."

With that, the door slammed and he was gone.

-

For some reason I couldn't focus for the rest of the day. Leaving a message with John that I wasn't feeling well and to tell Steve and the rest of the guys that I wouldn't be joining them for drinks that night, I left early, hopping into my car and just…driving, trying to both take my mind off of things and concentrate on them better at the same time.

Hours later it was dark and I sat on the hood of my car at the cliff on the outskirts of town, watching the city below me. I wondered why I had been so hard on Zim, earlier. Why I couldn't have just given him the money. I knew he wasn't lying—the scars from his tears was evidence enough of that—so what was the problem? It wasn't as if I didn't have the money to spare; I did; and perhaps Zim's research could even help the company out. A cure for pancreatic cancer would be almost priceless, making both his name and mine famous. So what was my problem? What was holding me back?

"_Greed."_ a small voice in my head answered.

"What?" I asked the air. I had gotten rid of my habit of talking to myself years ago, yet speaking to no one didn't bother me in the least. For some reason it made me feel more like myself than I had in a while.

"_You want it all to yourself,"_ the voice replied, _"the fame, the fortune. Why let Zim share the spotlight? Why waste money on saving that snot-nosed sister of yours? There are so many better things that you could be using that money for: cars, clothes, chicks, booze,"_ I was reminded suddenly of my first conversation with Steve, _" the world is your oyster, Dib. In reality the little bitch is only slowing you down."_

"That isn't true," I insisted, "she's my sister. I love her."

"_And is she really _deserving_ of that love, Dib?"_ the voice argued, _"Think about it. She's treated you like something that she found under her shoes for years."_

"I really haven't treated her much better." I stated, thinking about the last few conversations we had had. Really, I hadn't had anything nice to say to her since Dad died. I wondered why.

"_It's because you finally realized that she doesn't matter. Nothing really does. Only you. And that company. And the money. That's all. That's all there really is in this world, Dib. When all is said and done, do you think that she's going to be there for you? Do you think that she's going to care if you live or die? No. The only person that you have that will care is yourself, Dib. Yourself and hundreds of thousands of stockholders. Won't it be nice to be completely self sufficient? To be completely on your own?"_

I thought about it. The voice _was_ making sense. Who did I really have to count on besides myself? On the other hand…

"No." I stated, shaking my head, trying to make the voice stop it's argument, "No, that isn't true. I can't listen to you, anymore. I need to think. I…I need to go home." That said, I got back into my car and sped away down the hill, back towards town, away from voices that spoke from the darkness.

-

I stepped into my sister's room, quietly, opening the door only enough to let myself squeeze in, afraid of the hinges squeaking. I sat lightly on her bed, watching her sleeping form, illuminated by the crack of light shining from he hallway. Zim had been right. She looked like hell. Her skin was sallow and yellow, seemingly stretched onto the bones of her face. Veins stuck out on her cheeks, lining them like a road map. Her breathing was ragged and every few seconds she would cough lightly and then roll over, moaning with the effort it took to find a position that wouldn't put pressure on her aching back.

How could I have been so blind that I hadn't seen this? How could I have let her fall into such a state of disarray?

I reached out and lightly pushed her sweat soaked hair out of her face, allowing my hand to rest for a moment on her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and she scrunched her eyebrows together.

"Mom?" She murmured, not opening her eyes.

"Shh," I whispered, stroking her hair, "everything will be fine, go back to sleep."

"Mommy, it hurts," she answered, her voice a whimper.

I felt a sudden pain in my heart, and swallowed to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall, "I know, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'll make everything alright."

I felt her hand grab mine in the darkness, and I gave it a little squeeze.

"Dib's never home, anymore. I miss him. If I die, I won't get to tell him that I'm sorry. I don't want to die, Mommy, I don't—"

"Shh shh shh," I soothed, tears beginning to fall freely, now, "you're not going to die. Your brother's not going to let you. Now go back to sleep. In the morning things will be better."

That seemed to state her for the moment, because she let go of my hand and rolled over onto her side, her breath catching for a moment in pain and then evening out as she fell back into her dreams. I got up slowly and left the room, shutting the door behind me.

In the hallway, I slid to the floor and wept.

-

The next morning I went into the office in my old jeans and Structure shirt and tie, leaving my new clothes in a bag in the hallway at home marked "Goodwill". I had barely even brushed my hair, even. For some reason it felt more right. As I turned the corner to reach my office I noticed Steve standing at John's desk, seeming to give him a hard time about something.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" I asked, approaching them. Steve turned around and flashed me his hundred dollar smile. I noticed John let out a relieved breath behind him.

"Dib! Just the man I wanted to see. Where were you last night, buddy? We all—"

"I had some family business to attend to." I answered, cutting him off. I pushed past him and leaned slightly onto John's desk. "John, I need you to do me a favor. Call and cancel all of my appointments for the next month. I'm going to be working from home until further notice."

"What? What the hell are you talking about, Dib? You can't work from—" Steve began to protest. I raised a hand silencing him nodding to John to start taking notes.

"Also, call the bank and tell them to transfer three thousand dollars directly into the account of my friend, Zim, the man that was here yesterday. His information should be on the rollo-deck."

"Three thousand dollars!" Steve exclaimed, grabbing my shoulder so that I faced him, "Are you nuts? What has gotten into you?"

I shook off his hand, glaring at him from behind my glasses, "I'm thinking clearly for the first time in quite a while, _my man_." I answered, my voice dripping with annoyance, "Now if you don't mind, don't you have a job you should be doing?"

Steve glared back at me and straightened his tie. "Yes, sir." He answered, hate evident in his voice as he angrily strode toward the elevator.

I turned back to John, "Inform the research and development teams that Zim is allowed full access to our facilities, and whatever have whatever funds he may need over that initial three thousand sent directly to him. Oh, and tell Dick that he can have his funding as well. And what are you smiling at?"

John had, by this time, put down his pen and was looking at me from across the desk with a giant, shit eating grin on his face. He chuckled a bit and stood, clapping. "You won, Dib. For a moment, I didn't think you were going to, but you did. You passed."

I looked at him like he was insane. "What are you talking about? Have you lost it? Passed what?"

John shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just know that you did. You passed. Things are going to be ok, here, now. This Dib is going to be alright. You, however, have another test to take."

"Test? What? What the hell are you saying. Maybe you need some time off."

John chuckled and held up his hand, "Believe me, I'm fine, Dib. Now brace yourself, it's time to go."

"Go where—" I started, but before I could finish the thought, John snapped and I became suddenly dizzy, the world fading and swirling around me before falling into blackness.

One down, six to go.

--

A/n. Wow. Crap. These chapters just keep getting longer and longer. I guess it's because they're kinda like mini stories all on their own.

It felt good to write a more assertive Dib for once, even though he did end up getting more abrasive and just plain nasty towards the end. But that was the point. I guess.

There was only one reference in this chapter, and those who get it will receive, umm…a purple gel pen. Or something.

Thank you so much for everyone's kind reviews. Sorry that this took so long to update, but I've been quite the busy beaver. I'm going to try for one update a week, but with the length of these chapters, along with work, classes, and musical type stuff (some friends of mine have me doing vocals for their new project), we shall see. Hopefully I won't make you guys wait too long in between updates.

Man, I should have been in bed an hour ago. Damn my mind for not letting me get away with not finishing this, tonight. Evil.

As always, please R and R.

-j


	4. Drink

A/n: Wow, thank you, again, everyone, for your positive feedback. It makes me happy, also, to see reviews from some new people. Hooray!

Reference time:

--The reference was both to Steve's cornflower blue tie and to the fact that, when complimented on it, he announces that it's Tuesday. This refers to my favorite book/movie—Fight Club, where Jack (the narrator) only really realizes that it's Tuesday because his boss is wearing a cornflower blue tie.

However Invader Sneakyonfoota's guess that it was a JTHM reference was a good try, and receives a BLUE gel pen as a consolation prize. Or something.

In response to Chatwyn's question about Lust and whether or not I'm a ZADR shipper, I'll tell you this: in writing this, I'm making an attempt to look at the Sins in a way that it's normally used. This chapter (Gluttony) is an example of that, as will be the Lust chapter. With Greed and Wrath and a few of the other sins, I really don't have much room to work, because their definitions are pretty strict, however, when the definition gives me some leeway, I'm intending to take it. Therefore, I'm sorry to say that the Lust chapter is not going to be a hardcore lemon/lime/whatever other fruit one may think of to describe a sex scene. I have a very specific plot for that one in my notes, and sex really has very little to do with it. There will be sexual undertones in the Envy chapter, (and now that I think about it, in this chapter as well, even though all of the sex in here is 'straight' and not explained in any sort of graphic detail what so ever) in which some ZADR may be hinted around, but nothing too graphic. Not because I don't enjoy Slash, because I do, when it's well written, however, I don't think that I'm up to the task of doing it any justice. I don't think that I could write any kind of graphic sex scene without making it horribly lurid, and the thought of putting the word "cock" in my writing, other than using it as an insult, really just makes me giggle. (Maybe I'm immature, but that's just how it is.) So sorry to disappoint, but there will be no hot alien on human action.

There is, however, some ZAGR stuff in this chapter, if only for a plot device, because, as much as I love Dib, I thoroughly enjoy torturing him, and that's one thing that is guaranteed to piss _this _Dib off. I'm just a bad person like that. (Though, really, why would we, as authors, put the kid into the positions we do if we didn't get some kind of twisted pleasure out of it? We can all bitch about how shitty Gaz is all we want, but in reality, none of us are much better. As they put it in the DVD commentary, "America hates Dib". I think that rings pretty true.)

At any rate, I've rambled long enough, and I'm sure most of you just skipped that part, anyhow, so I'll go, now, and give you what you want. Without further ado, here is the next chapter.

WARNING: Contains reference to sexual situations and alcohol/drug use. Also, some strong language.

You Only Live Twice

PART FOUR: In which Dib has a drink.

_Main Entry: **glut·tony** _

_Pronunciation: __'gl&t-nE, 'gl&-t&n-E__  
Function: noun  
Inflected Form(s): plural **-ton·ies**  
**1** excess in eating or drinking  
**2** greedy or excessive indulgence_

Is it weird that I can remember my first ever drink? It was at the reception for my Aunt Nora's wedding. I was six. Sitting at a table with my father and some of the other men in my family I felt distinguished; grown up. My four year old sister was on the dance floor with our mother and aunt, twirling pirouettes, the women gushing over her adorableness, and I was at the table with the men, listening with rapt attention as they told dirty jokes and congratulated my new uncle, ribbing him about the "good time" he was going to have that night. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

I tugged on my father's sleeve, motioning for him to lean down to my level once I finally got his attention.

"Daddy, I'm thirsty." I told him.

He frowned for a moment and then patted me on the head, "Alright, Son, I'll see if I can find you a soda." he answered, smiling.

"Soda?" My uncle repeated, incredulously, his face red and his voice slurred from too many glasses of wine, "Dib, here, is a man! Men don't drink soda! Here," he thrust a glass of cold, amber liquid in front of me. It took both hands for me to hold it, "drink some of this. It'll put hair on your chest."

When given the option of whether or not I wanted hair growing on my chest, in reality I defiantly would have picked not. However, seeing the amused looks on my family members'—including my Dad's—faces, and the way my new uncle was nodding for me to take a drink, I decided to suck it up and take my chances with the hair. I wanted to be a grown up after all—I was sitting at the grown up table instead of playing on the dance floor with my baby sister, wasn't I? And if this bitter smelling liquid was what grown ups drank, than by golly, I was going to drink it.

I took a deep breath, raising the frosted mug to my lips and allowed the liquid to pour down my throat. It was strong and bitter and I almost spit it out, but held my ground, swallowing and forcing myself to grin up at the adults. A warm feeling drifted down my throat and spread through my belly as the men laughed and patted me on the shoulders and back, proclaiming that I was now a man.

My belly growing even warmer with pride, I took another sip, this one being much easier to swallow. As was the next. And the next. Soon the glass was empty and I found myself laughing loudly with my older relatives, seemingly over nothing.

Not too long after, my mother approached the table, a very sleepy Gaz in tow. I jumped from my chair, tottering a little as I landed and then threw my arms around my mother's waist. She smiled and pet my hair, leaning down to give me a kiss, and then stopped, a frown marring her perfect features. She kneeled down in front of me, holding me by my shoulders and looked me very sternly in the eye.

"Dib, sweetie, do me a favor and blow for a minute. A good strong blow, like you're the wolf trying to blow down the piggies' houses." she ordered, keeping her voice gentle, even though her eyes were dark with rising anger.

I gulped, knowing that something was wrong, and then did as she wished. She closed her eyes, moving her head backwards slightly as the smell from my breath stuck her.

"Whoosh. Wow." she released me and stood, gently pushing me towards Gaz. "Alright, sweetheart, go take your sister and sit down over there. Daddy and I will join you, soon. It's time to go home."

I grinned, still feeling silly, and nodded. I took Gaz's hand and led her half awake form to a bench near the table where I had been sitting with the men. She climbed up on the bench next to me and curled into a ball, snuggling into the warmth of my side. I wrinkled my nose at her, but she didn't notice, instead opting for putting her thumb into her mouth and closing her eyes. I stared at her for a moment in distaste, both for the fact that she was sucking her thumb like a baby, and because I knew that I would have to take a bath when I got home in order to get rid of her girl cooties. If there's one thing I hated more than girl cooties, it was baths. However, the warm feeling in my belly was making me sleepy, as well, and I really just didn't have the energy to push her away.

I focused my attention on my parents, watching as my mother tapped my dad on the shoulder and then whispered something in his ear. He looked up at her, annoyance in his eyes, before sighing and standing up to join her. After exchanging handshakes with the other men at the table, he made a little "after you" gesture to my mother and they walked back over to where my sister and I were sitting, neither or them speaking to the other, both with matching masks of agitation as they made a conscious effort not to touch.

When they reached us, my father stooped down, taking the sleeping Gaz into his arms, and my mother took my hand, pulling me gently down from the bench.

"Come on, darling," she cooed, "it's way past your bedtime."

I opened my mouth to protest that I was a man, now, and didn't need to have a bedtime, but something in her eyes and voice stopped me. Something told me that now was not the time for whining.

The car on the drive home was filled with a quiet tension; something that, even at such a young age, I recognized as the quiet before the storm. Something was very wrong and I couldn't help but feel that I was the cause. Mom had seemed happy before she made me blow into her face. Something about that grown up drink I had tried had made her upset, and I was filled with guilt for wanting to grow up so quickly. I knew that hair growing on my chest was a bad thing.

I lay in bed that night, watching the clock, waiting for the storm to begin. It started slowly, thunder rumbling in the distance, voices drifting softly though the vent that separated my room from that of my parents. The wind began to howl as my parents' voices rose with agitation and anger, strained with the force keeping their emotions in line.

"So I let the boy have a drink, what's the big deal?" My father was asking, his voice gruff with irritation. The boy. Son. Even at such a young age, my father never called me by my christened name. At that age, my father's nicknames for me caused me joy—it was something that Gaz didn't have that I did. Dad didn't call _her_ anything besides her boring ol' name. As I grew older, however, I realized that my father didn't call me "Son" as any sort of term of endearment, but rather because he really just couldn't remember what else to call me.

"What's the beg deal? Honestly, Travis, do you really think that it was a good idea to give our six year old son a beer? You're a scientist—you know better than anyone the effects of alcohol—who knows how much it takes to depress the system of a child so badly that it's dangerous?" My mother answered, her voice shrill with rising emotion.

"You're overeating. The boy is fine."

"No thanks to you. Honestly, how could you be so irresponsible? For some world famous scientist, you're not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Damn it, Amber, it was one drink! You're acting like I gave the kid arsenic or something! Nick and I just thought—"

"Oh, don't _even_ get me started on that imbecile that my sister married." my mother interrupted, "That man is perpetually sloshed. Just the person I want as a role model for Dib. Honestly!"

"Look, Amber, it was a joke. We gave the kid a drink, had a couple laughs over it, he's fine. No harm, no foul. Now can we just go to bed and forget about it? If you want to nag on me some more it can wait till morning. I'm tired and I want to go to bed."

"Fine. We'll discuss it in the morning. However, I don't know where _you're_ planning on sleeping, because it sure as hell isn't going to be in here with me."

"What? But—"

There was a silence, and the sound of my parent's door opening. "Go. Now." My mother commanded.

I heard my father pad out of the room and the door to their room closing once again with a definitive click. My father's voice followed him as he walked past my door towards the stairs, mumbling curses under his breath.

I lay in bed for a long time, after, my arms crossed beneath my head, my eyes trained on the glow in the dark star stickers that I had placed on my ceiling. This was not the first time that my father had had to spend the night on the couch after one of their arguments, nor would it be the last before Mom just got fed up and left. However, this was the first time that I knew I was the cause and I was filled with immense and powerful guilt at the notion. That night I vowed that I would never again drink that bitter liquid that had made my tummy feel so warm and good.

But then, I never was very good at keeping my promises.

Oops.

-

"Damn it, Dib, if you're not down here in five minutes, I'm going to come up there, drag you out of bed by your stupid hair and kick your ass so hard you'll wish Mom had had that abortion Dad always talks about!" My sister's voice made its way from the base of the stairs, down the hall, and into my ears, cutting into my hangover induced dreams like a knife. I groaned and rolled over onto my back, rubbing my face hard with hands that still smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and girl. Man, what had I done last night? Thinking hard, I cringed and let out a moan. Oh, yeah. That.

Through the haze that was once my short term memory, I recalled that last night had been Zita's back to school party. I had gone alone, had a beer or seven and somehow ended up naked in Zita's bedroom with the hostess, herself. This in itself wasn't really that big of a deal—Zita and I had been casually dating (read: having sex) for the past three months or so—my stab of humiliation came from the fact that after seven and a half beers, one's stomach isn't really up for participating in the naked Olympics with the hottest girl in school, and therefore rebels, causing you to vomit. A lot. I distinctly remembered making my way to the bathroom, first, which I supposed was better than nothing, but still, the fact remained that I had spent the night vomiting in a girl's toilet instead of what any normal drunken 17 year old would be doing, being fucking the girl's brains out.

Somehow I must have made it home, because here I was, in my own bed, with the hangover from hell, and the sister who hailed from roughly the same area threatening me from downstairs. Ah well, just another morning in the life of Dib, I supposed. Same ol', same ol'.

I rolled out of bed, standing and then immediately sitting back down again as the world spun nauseatingly around me.

"Dib!" Again my sister's voice invaded my pounding head, causing every muscle in my body to tense and clench.

"I'm COMING!" I shouted, flinching at the volume of my own voice. 'I'm never drinking again,' I thought, 'never. Never, ever, ever.'

I stood, again, this time keeping my footing and blinked repeatedly, trying to force some moisture into my eyes. I must have passed out in my contacts again. Blah. Every muscle ached, my eyes burned, my mouth tasted like something had died in it. I needed a shower, an aspirin, and a thirty hour nap. Only two of these were feasible, however, and I made my way to the bathroom, shedding clothing as I went.

Fifteen minutes and a change of clothes later, I was downstairs, digging though the fridge for something, anything to take the edge off my hangover.

"We're going to be late," Gaz stated from behind me, anger and irritation evident in her voice.

"They don't take attendance till half way through first period and you know it." I answered, addressing my words to the carton of orange juice on the top shelf of the fridge, "So just calm yourself down, alright? It's not a bid deal. Ah ha!" I found what I had been searching for, and pulled out the cold brown bottle of almost instant hangover relief. Straightening up, I stretched and then kissed the bottle's dewy side, grabbing the magnetic bottle opener from the side of the fridge before making my way to the counter to open it.

"That's Dad's beer." Gaz announced.

"Your point?" I fumbled with the opener for a minute and it slid off of the cap, jabbing into my hand. "Fuck," I muttered. Frowning, I stuck the injured side of the appendage in my mouth for a second, and then tried again.

"It's eight o'clock in the morning."

"Again, your point?" Ah. Success. I held the bottle to my lips and took a deep chug, wincing and then sighing as the familiar warmth coursed through my body. I smacked my lips and raised the bottle in a mock salute to my sister. "Hair of the dog, Gaz, hair of the dog."

She glared at me from across the room. "You're an idiot. I'll be outside." That said, she spun on her heels and left the room, her anger following her like a cloud. I gave her retreating form a look at my favorite finger and finished the rest of the beer.

Sisters.

-

"So, _Dib_, I heard about your BRILLIANT performance last night at Zita's party," Zim sneered, taking a seat across from me at the lunch table, leaning over so his face was only inches from my own.

I glared up at him through my bangs. My hangover had returned full force and his presence wasn't helping the situation any. Neither was the cafeteria food, if you wanted to be specific, but it was more fun to blame my discomfort on Zim. "Did you, now?"

"Mmmhmm," Zim answered, smirking, stealing a French fry off of my plate and flicking it at my head. I cringed and then glowered at the irritating alien, "Zita's made it pretty well known that the toilet got more action than _she_ did. I thought you humans made your PRIMITIVE mating rituals top priority, no matter what. What kind of man lets a queasy stomach get in the way of physical satisfaction?"

"One that probably would have died if he hadn't, considering the amount that he drank," a voice answered from behind me. Zim looked up at the voice and glared as Zita slid into the seat beside me. "Hey, baby," she greeted, kissing me on the side of the neck.

I smiled wanly through the nausea that the smell of her perfume was causing, and then went back to poking at my meatloaf with my fork, "Seven beers isn't _that_ many." I justified.

"Ah ha! See? The worm baby admits to being defeated by fermented grains!" Zim stated, rising a bit in his seat with the force of his words, "The grains are stronger than the Dib creature! _Fear the grains_!"

"What are you still doing here?" Zita scoffed. Zim sat back down and glared at the purple haired princess.

"He was just leaving." I stated, giving Zim a meaningful look. His brow furrowed in an expression that I couldn't read, but he caught my hint and rose to his feet.

"Yes, yes I was. I shall speak with you later, Dib. Remember: _fear the grains_!" That said, he stalked away, moving much like an insect on his long, thin legs. Zim had decided sometime around the 7th grade that he should go through a type of puberty like the rest of us to keep up his whole 'being human' act. After chemically altering himself so much that a giant praying mantis showed up on my doorstep begging my help, we managed to level him out so that he was merely taller than the average Irken, and not overly evolved. The result still made him vaguely insect-like, however, and he had confided in me one night after both of us had exhausted ourselves by fighting and were laying, spent, on the ground—the only time when he and I took advantage of the strange friendship that we had and could actually talk to the other—that he found himself strangely aroused by the sound of chirping crickets. The weirdo.

"Honestly, I don't know why you still bother with that kid," Zita was saying, bringing me back to the matter at hand.

I shrugged, a non-committable answer. There was no way in hell I was going to explain to Zita that, while I enjoyed my relatively newfound popularity, I couldn't let go of the person I used to be. Zita, who shed her skin like a reptile every few months, once who she was had become too trendy, wouldn't understand. It was moments like these that reminded me that she and I were only together because of some strange physical chemistry we shared. It was hard to speak intellectually to someone who's biggest worry was what shoes to wear the next day. I decided to change the subject, "So I heard that you're telling everyone about last night."

She had the grace to act shocked, at least, "What? Me?" I raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed a little. "Ok, so maybe I told Melissa, who might have told Julie, who _may_ have told Sheila—"

"Who probably told the whole school." I finished, brutally mutilating my meatloaf with my fork.

"No, no, Sheila probably just told Torque. _Torque_ was the one who told the whole school."

I shot her a look, which was met with her 'I'm cute, you can't be mad at me' smile. Sighing, I dropped my fork into the beefy mess that lay on my tray and ran my hand through my hair. "Great, that's all I need is for Torque to know. He's not going to let me live it down at practice tonight, and I'm way too hung over to deal with it. Ugh."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Baby," Zita cooed, putting her arms around me, "it's not that big of a deal. Tell you what," she took my chin in her hand, turning my face to hers. She ran an index finger lightly over the skin of my cheeks and lips. I closed my eyes, almost purring at her touch, "my parents are going out of town again this weekend. I'll have another party and you can get Torque back by drinking him under the table."

I opened one eye, "How am I supposed to do that? He has a good hundred pounds on me."

Zita winked, "I can pull a few strings, make sure that he's drinking a little more than alcohol, something like that."

"Drug him? But that's _wrong_!" I stated, feigning shock.

She smiled, seductively, leaning forward so that our noses almost touched, "It's only wrong if you want it to be." She whispered, her lips gently brushing mine with every word.

I smiled against her lips, "Oh, Baby, I like the way you think."

She giggled as I pulled her into a kiss, completely oblivious to the other hundred or so kids in the room, my hangover completely forgotten.

Mmm, Girls.

-

Torque waited until we were all in the locker room after practice to start his tirade. While, for all extensive purposes, I was now popular, and a part of the football team, my life of chasing after Zim training me to be a pretty formidable running back, Torque, for some reason, couldn't seem to understand that I was no longer bully fodder.

"Hey, Membrane!" He called, ambling his way towards me, naked and imposing except for a towel that was wrapped around his waist. He also couldn't understand that my last name wasn't Membrane, even though the name did belong to my 'esteemed ' father, and my sister. I opted to have it changed to my mother's around the time that I realized that my father didn't even _remember_ my name a good portion of the time, so what was the use of keeping his?

I busied myself with putting my clothes on. "Yeah, Torque?"

"Heard you bailed out on gettin' down and dirty with Zita last night. What happened; couldn't get it up?"

Finding his question to be the finniest thing he had ever heard, Torque began to laugh harshly, the pack and a half of cigarettes he smoked a day becoming evident in his voice. The rest of the locker room joined in shortly after, if only because years of conditioning had taught them that, when Torque laughs, you laugh, unless you want to cry.

Glaring at him with one eye over my shoulder, I continued to dress. "I had drank too much, Torque, I wasn't rendered incompetent."

Torque looked confused for a minute at my words, obviously not knowing what "incompetent" meant, but caught himself quickly, plowing on, "Maybe Zita needs to stop playing with little boys like you and focus on a _reaI_ man. Someone who knows how to get her all wet."

Oh, alright, so _that's_ why he was making a big deal out of it. Two could play at this game. "You mean someone like you?" I was dressing quicker, now, wanting to be able to make a quick escape if necessary. Knowing my smart mouth, lately, it was going to be necessary.

Torque smiled and gave me a 'friendly' smack on the shoulder. "Now you got it, Membrane! Someone like me—someone who knows hows to treat a lady, someone who's experienced enough to know hows to make her come so hard her head almost explodes, someone who—"

I had just finished tying my shoes, it was time for action. Pulling my messenger bag and equipment duffel over my shoulder, I interrupted Torque's little speech, "Someone who still wears He-Man underpants?" Quick as lightning I reached out and snatched his towel away from his waist, revealing his cartoon jockeys.

I had spotted them lining the floor of his room one day when I had to go to his house to tutor him in Bio. He had informed me that they were all his mother would buy, still seeing him as her little boy, and the only thing that had kept me quiet so far was his threat to beat me into a bloody pulp if I said anything to anyone.

But that was back in the 9th grade. That was when I was deemed 'loser', unclean and unfit for human interaction. Now, however, now I was dating the most popular girl in school. Now, I was on the school football team. Now, I was _somebody. _And not only somebody, but somebody who had just pissed off and humiliated his childhood bully. Now, I was somebody who needed to run for his life.

And so I did.

Laughing.

-

The next week belonged to me and me alone. Torque, properly humiliated in front of his peers and put in his place, had stopped his rumors about my supposed inability to perform, neither Gaz nor Zim seemed to be around, which didn't really bother me all that much, for various reasons, everything was the way it should be. Everything was perfect.

Until that Friday night. Then, everything went wrong. Then, I killed my sister.

-

The game that night had been fantastic. After twenty minutes of overtime with a score of 17 to 17, I caught an amazing pass by Torque (whatever our relationship off the field, while on it, we were an unstoppable team), running it in for the winning touchdown. The fans stormed the field, lifting Torque and I up onto their shoulders, and carrying us from the stadium. Looking down, I caught a smile and a blown kiss from Zita, who looked amazing as usual in her green and white cheerleading uniform. I was a hometown hero. It was time to celebrate.

Zita's parents ended up staying in town, and so the party had been moved to The Letter M's place. Beating Torque in a drinking contest was no longer necessary after the locker room incident, so I was able to spend the entire time accepting congratulatory pats on the back and making out with my girlfriend in between beers. Around 2am, people started to make their way home, and Zita and I decided to head over to my house, since hers was occupied by her parental units.

We stumbled through the front door, hands groping at clothes and body parts, our lack of coordination a mixture of alcohol and pure teenage hormones. We haphazardly made our way to the couch, knocking over a lamp or two in the process, and spent a few minutes lost in our hormonal frenzy before Zita pushed me gently off of her, needing to come up for air.

We sat there for a minute, breathing hard and grinning at each other like a couple of idiots, and then Zita got a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Ever have sex while high?" she asked.

I felt my grin grow wider. "Why, are you holding?"

She winked at me as she pulled a sandwich baggy out of her pocket, "Would I have asked if I wasn't?"

I laughed and pulled her closer to me, kissing and nipping at her neck as she pulled a bud from the baggy and began separating it out onto a piece of paper on the coffee table. After a moment, she sat up straight, a bothered expression on her face, and began patting at her pockets.

"Shit." She swore.

I reluctantly moved away from her neck, where a small red mark was forming, "What?"

"I forgot my pipe. Do you have anything? Papers, a bowl, some aluminum foil?"

I thought for a moment. Weed wasn't exactly my substance of choice, so I didn't own my own piece, and I knew that Gaz wasn't into the whole drug scene, the way that she made comment on my drinking habits every chance she could. However…

"My dad keeps cigars in a box in his room. We could roll a blunt." I suggested.

Zita grinned and kissed me hard on the mouth, "I knew you were a genius. Go fetch."

I stood and gave her a little playful glare as she patted my bum, "Yes, Mistress." I answered. She winked and waved me away.

Chuckling to myself, I made my way up the stairs and down the hall to my father's room. The upper level was dark, as was to be expected, considering my father spent most nights either at the lab or at one of his sleazy girlfriends houses, however a small flicker of light from under my sister's door caught my attention. Walking a bit closer, my vision still blurry from the alcohol, I heard muffled whispers and…was that a moan? Who did Gaz have in there? She wasn't seeing anyone as far as I knew, so who could be causing her to breath so heavy that I could hear it from the hallway?

Some self righteous brother instinct rose inside of me and I found myself with my hand on her doorknob. Who ever was in there with her was about to get a big surprise. Either that or I was about to embarrass the hell out of my sister by catching her watching porn. Either way, something inside of me was grinning like a freaking maniac as I pushed the door open with all of my strength, letting loose a cry similar to the Jihad screams I heard I television.

The door crashed loudly into the wall, leaving a little indent from the knob, and the good natured, drunken grin that I was wearing fell from my face in an instant at the sight of who it was in bed with my sister.

"Zim?" I breathed, barely able to get the name out as he and Gaz struggled with bedding and discarded clothing, looking for something to cover themselves up.

"Um…hi, Dib." He muttered, embarrassment and shame causing his skin to take on a darker shade of green.

"Damn it, Dib, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" My sister screeched, having managed to untangle herself from both Zim and the sheet enough to pull the black piece of cloth up to her chest.

"I…err…well…" What _had_ I been doing? It seemed like a good idea at the time, what with the whole being drunk thing and all, but the sight of my sister naked in bed with an alien had shocked my senses into sobriety pretty quickly. Still, that brotherly self-righteousness rose up inside of me, turning to anger. I focused on that emotion, milking it for all it was worth, rather than admit that I had made a drunken mistake, "What am _I_ doing? What the hell do you think _you're_ doing, you little _slut_?!?"

Zim must have noticed that angry fire growing behind my sister's eyes, because he stood from the bed and quickly began pulling on his pants, "Now, Dib—" he began, shuffling towards me with a hand outstretched to ward off any attacks. He gave a pointed look towards my sister's face. I was too enraged to pay attention.

"He isn't even the same _species_ as you!" I continued, undaunted, "What's wrong, you couldn't pick up any _human_ guys so you decided to just give it up to the _alien_?"

"Dib, c'mon, I really don't think—" Zim had his shirt on now and was struggling into his boots.

I cut him off, again, "You can't honestly have deluded yourself into thinking that he _loves _you! He's only using you for his own pathetic purposes. I thought you were better than that." I chuckled, bitterly, "And you call _me_ a moron. I'm ashamed for you, Gaz, I really am."

My sister, at this point, had obviously had enough. She rose from the bed slowly, deliberately, rage making her amber eyes seem to glow. The sheet fell from her as she moved, but she ignored it, her urge to kill me stronger than her sense of decency.

"_You're_ ashamed of _me_?" She seethed, spitting the words out between gritted teeth, "At least _I'm_ not some alcoholic, pig-headed, drunken _jock_!" She took another step closer, anger emanating off of her small, naked form in waves. I felt my own anger lower, crawling back to hide behind the larger emotion I was feeling at the moment: a healthy fear that my little sister was about to rip my eyes out with her bare hands.

"At least _I'm_ not banging some dirty cheerleading _whore_!" Gaz continued, stepping closer. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, calling me a slut?! Huh? Who, the _FUCK_ do you think you _ARE_?"

She stood in front of me, now, on her toes, her face mere inches from my own. Her words made my anger come out of hiding, the alcohol coursing though my veins fueling it into a dangerous rage. Something inside of me snapped, realizing that my entire life I had been berated and beaten by this petite creature, this girl-woman who shared my blood. The adrenaline running through my system and the booze made me brave and I did the last thing I thought I ever would do.

I backhanded Gaz across the face.

Her hand rose immediately to her cheek, where a large red stain was forming, branding her pale skin. She stayed that way for a second, the shock having caused her aura of anger to disappear almost immediately, and as she turned her head, slightly to look at me, I noticed both the hot, betrayed tears forming in her eyes, and how very small she was. It was funny how this tiny thing had been the bane of my existence for 15 years. I felt a tight knot of guilt form in my stomach and I reached out to touch her, wanting to erase that red mark that proved my guilt.

"Gaz, I—" I didn't get to finish my sentiment, however, because I was caught from the side by an angry green blur. Zim had finally managed to put his boots on and was determined, for some reason, to defend my sister's honor.

His first punch caught me square in the jaw, and as I rose to my feet, wiping the blood away from my lip, I saw an emotion in his eyes that hadn't existed when he and I had fought before. I sensed that this time it was different. This time he seriously hated me. Funny what girls can do to a man.

"I may not be _human_, Dib, but even in my culture it is wrong to strike a female," the alien growled, his eyes angry slits behind his contacts.

"Yeah, and in _mine_ it's also wrong to fuck your friend's sister, so what's your point?" I countered, moving forward quickly to attack, the force of my blow knocking him backwards into the hallway.

He let out a pained sound as his pak hit the wall behind him, but caught his breath and was up and circling me in an instant. I kept my eyes trained on his body, as he did the same, both of us watching for the briefest flinch that would tip off the other's next move.

There—an almost unperceivable twitch in Zim's left leg. The moment he lunged, I stepped to the right, allowing him to fly past me with the force of his jump, landing with one foot halfway off of the top stair. He teetered there for a moment, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance, but ultimately, gravity had the final say and he topped over, rolling down the stairs to a chorus of 'thump's and 'oof's.

"Dib? What's going on up there?" I heard Zita slur from downstairs, just as Zim crashed onto the final landing. I ran halfway down to see Zim picking himself up off the floor—sans wig and one contact which lay on various steps he had hit on the way down.

"Zim? What are you…" Zita trailed off as the alien looked at her. "Holy shit. Holy shit. You're…you're…" She stammered, backing away from the stairs, her eyes wide and frightened. She backed up until she hit the coffee table and then allowed herself to drop to the floor, eyes still trained on Zim.

Zim looked at the girl as if she were a moron, "What are you blathering about, female? Have you finally realized the greatness that is ZIM?"

"You're an alien…" Zita stated, her voice light and airy. I began to worry that the revelation had somehow broken something in her mind.

"Eh?" Zim made a confused noise and placed a hand on his head, feeling his antenna. A panicked look crossed his face and he searched manically for his wig. I walked slowly down the stairs towards him, scooping up his wig and contact as I walked and handed them to the frantic alien. He took them, his eyes showing confusing and mistrust, and I shook my head, not wanting to fight any more. In truth, I didn't have the energy at the moment. All I really wanted was a stiff drink and a nap, and to wake up to find this night had all been a dream.

"An alien…" Zita was repeating from the floor of the living room.

I gave her an irritated look, "Oh, so _now_ you believe me. Maybe I should have thrown him down the stairs at you when we were 12 and you would have shut up with the 'crazy' comments."

Zim smirked and then his eyes grew wide, focusing on something behind me. I turned to see what he was looking at and was met by my sister's small hand pushing me out of her way. I fell backwards a step and ran into Zim who was also caught off balance, causing us both to land in a heap.

Gaz had decided to dress herself and was rummaging through the hall closet for her sneakers and a jacket. I managed to disentangle myself from Zim and reach my feet as she was pulling on her coat, headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" I demanded, using my best stern older brother voice.

"To Mom's" She answered, reaching for the doorknob.

I was there in an instant, my arm thrown across the door to block her path. "You're not going anywhere." I stated.

She glared up at me, her violet hair still in sex-caused knots, a perfect imprint of the back of my right hand on her cheek. "You can't stop me, Dib. I'm going to Mom's. Get out of the way."

"How do you think you're going to get there? You don't have your license, yet. You're staying. Now go back upstairs like a good girl and go to bed. You know where it is—you've been there most of the night, haven't you?"

That last comment caused my sister's eyes to flash and I found myself doubled over on the floor from the force of her knee coming into contact with a very sensitive area.

"I'll walk." She said, opening the door. It hit me on the head, causing a new pain for my mind to focus on to distract me from my aching balls. The sound of the door slamming behind her caused a vibration of sound, and I had to hold myself back from vomiting all over my living room floor.

"An alien…" Zita repeated, her voice still full of wonderment and horror.

I lay there on the floor a few minutes longer before pushing myself to my feet, using the door as support. Zim came over and helped, grabbing my arm, but I pushed him gently away, stating that I was fine. He looked at me worriedly for a moment but backed away, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. After standing there, bent over, hands on my knees for a few moments to catch my breath and put my mind in order, I straightened up, and walked over to the coffee table to grab my keys.

"Where are you going?" Zim demanded, using much the same tone of voice that I had tried on Gaz a few moments before.

"I'm going after her. There's no way she's walking all the way across town by herself." I answered, grabbing my jacket from the arm of the couch.

"She's not going to like that very much. I highly doubt she's going to go with you willingly."

"No shit, Sherlock, but what do you want me to do? She's only 15, and it's four in the morning. Something could happen to her and it would be my fault. I'm going after her."

I found myself with Zim's hand on my arm, impeding me from both finishing putting on my jacket, and walking any further towards the door. "You're still highly intoxicated, Dib. That impedes your species' motor functions. You're in no shape to be driving. Give me your keys, I'll go after her."

I laughed in his face, "You? Zim, last time I let you drive my car you drove the damned thing straight into a lamp post. I don't have an extra five hundred dollars just hanging around in case you crash it, again. Forget it, you're not going."

Zim's grip tightened on my arm as I tried to move, "Better I crash it than you kill yourself because you insist on putting poisons into your FILTHY body. Just give me your damned keys."

"An alien…" Zita reminded us from the floor.

"Shut up!" Zim and I chorused, both focusing our glares on the dazed cheerleader before raising them back up to meet each other's. It was a test of will, and I was determined to win. It wasn't as if I had never driven while drunk before. In fact, I probably did better then than I did while sober. I knew that there was nothing to worry about, and there was no way the alien was going to stop me from going after Gaz and attempting to fix my mistake.

Finally, an idea crossed my mind. The fact that I had just seen him naked earlier could be used to my advantage. One thing that I noticed that I had always wondered about was that Zim was indeed a male, and that his body, while consisting of completely different organs than a human , was still built very much the same as mine. Which meant for the same weaknesses—one of which my sister had so kindly pointed out only moments before.

Reaching out quickly with my hand that held the keys, I grabbed Zim's shoulder and turned him slightly towards me as I jabbed my knee into his crotch. His eyes bugged for a moment in pain as he groaned and slumped to the floor. I felt a phantom sympathy pain for the green boy, but pushed it away, focusing instead on pulling on my jacket and making my way to the front door.

"Believe me, Zim: that hurt me just as much as it did you, but I really have to do this. Keep an eye on Zita for me, I think she's in shock or something. I'll be back shortly. " That said I, opened the door, drunkenly determined and focused on my mission.

"F-fuck you, Human." I heard Zim groan as I shut the door behind me. There was nothing I could do to suppress my guilty little smile as I walked to the car.

While we sat, much later, in the waiting room at the hospital as my sister lay somewhere in between life and death, Zim would tell me how, shortly after I left, and the pain had receded from his nether regions, Zita had crawled over to him and, reaching out one shaking hand, gently touched his face. For some reason, this small physical contact had snapped her out of whatever loop her mind had been stuck in and she had let out an ear piercing scream and fled from the house.

For some reason I found this incredibly funny.

But then, I'm a bad person like that.

-

Driving while drunk can be describes somewhat as a video game. One is so busy trying not to get pulled over by the cops that you are able to focus on things in the road that you normally wouldn't pay attention to. That night, however, the early morning fog was so thick that I was barely able to make out the road a foot in front of my head lights, and that, mixed with the energy I had displaced—both physically and emotionally—and the large amount of booze I had consumed was making my mind dull around the edges. I really just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, not be out here in the fog, looking for my brat of a sister.

This was all her fault, anyhow, I told myself. If she hadn't been fucking around with Zim—the thought still filled me with disgust—then wouldn't have had any reason to yell at her, and she wouldn't have any reason to yell back, and I wouldn't have gotten so angry that I had hit her, and she wouldn't have insisted on walking to Mom's at four in the damned morning. The fact that, had I not been drunk and on the search for something to pack some weed into, I wouldn't have had the urge to burst in and invade my sister's privacy, thus putting the entire sequence of events into motion to begin with was nagging at the back of my mind, but I ignored it, determined that Gaz was the blame for all of this. She blamed me for every bad thing that happened in _her_ life, so why couldn't I blame her for this?

I was so deep in my own little world that I didn't see the shape coming at me in the fog. The vague outline of a girl. A girl with long, violet hair. By the time I noticed, it was to late, my reflexes too dulled by liquor and lack of sleep to respond quickly enough. There was a sickening 'thump' and I hit the person in front of me, my tires squealing on the wet cement as I slammed my foot on the brakes.

I hurriedly exited the car, not even bothering to put on my blinkers, and crouched beside the fallen figure.

"Shit," I chorused, under my breath, "shit, shit, shit."

I reached out and felt for the girl's wrist, feeling for a pulse, panic forming a nice little knot in my stomach. There. It was faint, but at least it was there. I scanned my mind for any information that may still be there from the first aid classes I took in middle school for anything that could be of use. Don't move the body, check for excessive bleeding, call 911. Ok. I could do this.

Still keeping my fingers on the girl's wrist with one hand, I fumbled in my pockets with the other for my cell phone. Finding it, I flipped it open and dialed 911 with my thumb.

"C'mon, c'mon," I muttered as it rang, meanwhile, checking visually for any blood. There wasn't any. I couldn't tell whether or not that was a good thing, seeing as it didn't mean that she wasn't bleeding on the inside.

"Hello, 911, please state the nature of your emergency." A voice greeted through the phone.

"Thank you! Finally! I—I hit someone with my car! It was an accident! It's so foggy, and I couldn't see, and—"

"Calm down, son, it will be ok," the voice on the other end cut in, taking on a tone of concerned calm, "where are you? We can't trace the signal from your phone."

I looked around for any land marks, street signs, anything to tell me where I was. For a frantic moment, I didn't see anything, and then I spotted a sign, bent and hanging with age and abuse.

"I'm on Spooner Street. Across from the Happy Times retirement home. Please hurry."

"Spooner Street, alright, I'm sending a police unit and an ambulance out there, now. They should be there in about ten minutes. What I need you to do, now—"

"Ten minutes?!" I interrupted, panic rising once again in me, "She could be dead by then!"

"Son, you need to calm down. They will be there as quickly as they can. You panicking is not going to help her any. What I need you to do is to feel for a pulse. Is there any?"

This I already knew. "I already did that. She has one, but it's unsteady and faint. I don't know how much longer she's going to hold on." Tears were coursing down my face in rivers, the adrenaline and the alcohol making me sick to my stomach. God, why didn't I listen to Zim? Why did I insist on doing this myself?

"That's good. The fact that there is a pulse, even though it's weak, is a good sign. Now, can you check her breathing?"

I shook my head, even though the operator had no way of knowing, "I can't tell. She's lying on her stomach and I'm afraid to turn her over."

"Place your hand on her back, gently. You should be able to feel whether or not it's moving."

That made sense. Holding the phone in the crook of my neck, I reached out with my left hand, gently placing it on her back, not allowing my right to move from it's position on her wrist. It was almost as if her pulse was keeping me alive. If it stopped, I didn't know what I would do. I held my breath for a few minutes, focusing my attention on my left hand. For a tense, agonizing moment, I didn't feel anything, but then, faintly and almost imperceptible, I felt her back rise and fall in the rhythm of her breath.

"She's breathing." I told the operator, letting out a sigh of relief. I could hear the sirens faintly in the distance. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I was going to be in big trouble—I was underage, drunk, and had hit someone who could possibly die. I was going to face at least one night of jail, I knew it, if not more. For some reason, however, this thought didn't bother me. All I cared about in that instant was that this broken girl that lay beneath my hands be ok. All I wanted was for her to live.

The police and ambulance rolled up minutes later and I hung up with the emergency operator. Two paramedics flew from the back of the ambulance and pushed me to the side, gently moving the girl's body to the stretcher that seemed have appeared out of no where. I stood and watched, not knowing what else to do until I felt someone tap my shoulder.

I turned to come face to face with a police officer who looked to be in his late twenty's with shocking red hair and oval glasses. His name tag read "Officer Jonathan V" and he didn't look happy in the least.

"Care to tell me what happened, here, Son?" He asked, his brows knotted in a frown.

"I—it was an accident, Officer. I had gotten into a fight with my sister, and she insisted on walking to our mother's who lives across town. I decided to drive out to find her and couldn't see in the fog and hit this person. I didn't mean to—it was an accident." I was crying openly, though it shamed me to do so.

The officer gave me a look a disappointment that looked vaguely familiar for some reason. Moving a little closer to my face, he inhaled and then stepped back, again, his frown becoming deeper.

"Son, have you been drinking?" he asked me.

I swallowed and tried to think of an excuse, but couldn't. Looking down at my shoes, I answered, "Yes, Officer."

He sighed, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, Sir."

"You know that drinking under the age of 21 is illegal and driving while under the influence is also illegal no matter what the age, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You need to come with me, kid. We'll go down to the station and call your parents, alright? Let's go." He took my arm, gently, but firmly and began to lead me to the car.

Something crossed my mind just then. Something about the girl I had hit. I stopped, causing the officer to look back at me, irritation marring his features, "Are you going to make this difficult, kid?"

"No, sir, I just…can I look and ask the paramedics if the girl is going to be ok? I need to know, please?" I gave my best imitation of a hurt puppy and the officer sighed, releasing my arm.

"Fine, go. Don't try anything funny, though. I still have to read you your rights."

I nodded and made my way to the ambulance, where the doors were still hanging open as the paramedics lifted the girl into the back. I sensed the officer behind me as I walked up to the vehicle and stepped up on the bumper to get a look inside.

The girl's face was dirty, but still recognizable. Gaz lay there on the stretcher looking much like she had just decided to take a nap, her violet hair spread out around her. I took a sharp intake of breath that made my lungs burn, and new tears sprung into my eyes. I hopped down and faced the officer.

"Sir, that girl—that's my sister. Please, I have to go with her. I have to make sure she's ok. You can follow the ambulance and arrest me at the hospital if you want, but you have to let me go. Check the records if you want. My name is Dib, I'm the son of Professor Membrane—that's my sister, Gaz. My social is 173-88-9345. Run a background if you want, I'll even give you my license, just please let me go with her. Please?"

The officer raised his hands in surrender. "Ok, kid, get going. I'll see you in the waiting room."

I could have hugged the man. Instead, I gave him a grateful nod and climbed in the back of the ambulance with the paramedics, who slammed the doors behind me.

I rode to the hospital with my sister in silence, my eyes not leaving her face, holding her small hand in mine, which had, only and hour or so before, caused her to run away in the first place. It was funny how these things happened.

Yet, for some reason, I wasn't laughing.

The only sound coming from my lips was prayer.

-

The officer had made good on his threat to meet me in the hospital waiting room, but he had the courtesy and understanding to wait to arrest me and take me to the station until word had come back from the doctors that Gaz was going to be alright. She had, however, suffered extreme trauma to her legs and back and would have to undergo physical therapy in order to walk properly. I foresaw months and months of having to be her slave to make up for it, but for some reason it didn't matter. I was just grateful that she was alive.

Our father was, of course, unavailable when the hospital tried to reach him, but our mother was I the lobby with me in an instant, tears running down her face in streams. After checking to make sure that I was alright and speaking with the officer she barely looked at me, speaking only when necessary, her voice full of pain and disappointment.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Dib," She would say, shaking her head, "I just don't know."

That night, as I lay on the cold cot in my jail cell, I made a vow that had come from my lips many a time throughout my life. One that I had first uttered when I was six years old, after my Aunt's wedding: I was never going to drink again.

This time I was going to keep my promise.

-

Two months later I was sitting on Torque Smacky's couch, Zita hanging on my air, drunkenly nibbling on my earlobe. Torque and I had led our team to the state championships, and now it was cause for celebration. However, by keeping true to my promise and not drinking, I really wasn't having that great of a time. I was beginning to think of excuses to leave Zita there and make my way home when Torque flopped down on the couch beside me, reaching one meaty arm around my neck and giving me a playful nookie that made my scalp feel like it was on fire.

"There's my man," Torque greeted, "Hey, why aren't you drinking? This is a time for celebration! We kicked Middlewood's _ass_, man! What's your problem?"

"You know I don't drink, anymore, Torque," I answered, becoming steadily irritated by his presence. I moved my arm, forcing Zita away from my ear, causing her to pout a bit before her attention was taken up by someone across the room.

She kissed me on the cheek, "I'm gonna go talk to Julie, Babe, I'll talk to you later." She stated, and then disappeared into he crowd. She had pretty much negated her revelation that Zim was an alien that one night by chalking it up to a hallucination caused by bad weed. I let her think whatever she wanted. Her opinion really didn't matter that much to me, anymore.

Torque and I watched her leave for a moment, and then he turned back to me, slapping me on the back to gain my attention. "C'mon, man, I'll get you a beer." He began to stand and I grabbed him by one beefy wrist.

"No, Torque, I told you, I don't drink, anymore. I'm fine."

"Dude, so you accidentally hit your sister with the car. So what? That was months ago. This is now. This is your party, and I'm getting you a beer. Stop being a pussy." There was a slight twinge of anger in his voice, but it was nothing in comparison to what his words had awakened in me.

"So what? I nearly killed her, Torque, and you say _so what_?" I found myself on my feet, "You know what, forget this, alright? I need to go home. Tell Zita I'll call her, tomorrow, alright?"

I grabbed my jacket from the back of the couch and made my way to the door. No one tried to stop me. I wasn't surprised.

Once I reached the outside, I realized my mistake. Zita and I had driven in her car. I would have to walk. It was cold and snow was beginning to fall, but, after a glance back towards the music and people filled house, I had my mind made up. Hypothermia was better than those people. I really didn't know why I had put up with them for so long. Why popularity had been so important to me.

I focused on these thoughts for warmth as I trudged my way though the snow. Why had I been so needy for acceptance that I threw away everything I stood for? That I became a completely different person? In the long run, what did it all matter? It defiantly hadn't been worth it, I decided. It was time to cut the strings.

"Tomorrow I'll break up with Zita," I told myself, watching as my words caused clouds in the air before me, "I'll talk to Coach and quit the team and just focus on myself for a while. My grades were so shitty this semester, I need to pull them back up if I want to get my college applications together. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll just focus on me for a while. Fuck everyone else. I don't need them, I'll be fine on my own." I grinned to myself, "Well, not completely alone. Zim will support me, as will Gaz, I guess. She has been a lot easier to deal with since her and Zim hooked up—they both have. Maybe I was wrong about him not caring about her. God knows she needs him right now, with not being able to walk and all. Yeah, they'll be there for me. They were all I ever needed before, why should that change now?"

I was so deep into my own thoughts that I didn't notice the police car coming up behind me until the officer behind the wheel flashed his brights and then pulled up beside me. I stopped and turned, squinting in the dark to make out the driver and the window rolled down, revealing the officer who had arrested me two months ago. Great.

"Little cold to be walking, don't you think?" He called.

"I'm fine, Sir. I'm just on my way home from a party, Sir." I answered, nervousness causing me to shake more than the cold was.

"Have you been drinking, Son?" the man asked.

I shook my head. "Not tonight, Sir, I don't do that, anymore."

The officer grinned and reached over to push open the door, "Get in, kid, I'll give you a ride home."

I shook my head, not wanting to get into the car with that man, for fear that he would recognize me as the drunk idiot who almost killed his sister. I would rather freeze. Aloud I answered, "No, it's ok. It's not that far. Thanks, anyhow."

The officer frowned, "Just get in the car, Dib, you're going to catch pneumonia out there."

I sighed. Shit. He remembered me. Too late for excuses, now, and the warm air from the heater was causing my skin to ache for warmth. Defeated, I slid into the car and shut the door behind me.

We rode in silence for a while, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, the officer was the one to break into the quiet, "Saw the game, tonight. Fantastic play you made there."

I was amazed. "You saw that?" I asked, not being able to keep the grin from my face.

"Yup. You've come a long way, kid. Good job."

I grinned at him like an idiot, reveling in his praise. His next sentence, however, would wipe the grin from my face as if it had never been there.

"How's your sister?"

I sighed and looked at my hands. "She's alright. The therapist says that she's making good progress—should probably be able to walk on her own or with crutches by Christmas."

"That's good. That was quite a scare you had there." He looked at me with one eye from behind his glasses, the other focused on the road.

"Yes, Sir." I mumbled. I really didn't want to talk about this, now.

"You know," the officer began, "you keep coming so close to failing these Tests, and then you surprise me at the last moment. I'm afraid that one of these times you're not going to be able to pull yourself up. You need to pay more attention."

I looked at him, not understanding what he was talking about, "Huh?"

He sighed and shook his head, "Yeah, I know, you don't understand what I'm saying. That's the nature of the Tests, after all—that you don't know that it is one, and I really shouldn't even be discussing this with you, but I really want you to succeed, Dib. I really want you to beat this. Just promise me you'll try harder, alright? You have a good soul, kid, I would hate to have it lost forever."

He was beginning to make me uneasy. We were nearing my street, and I was beginning to wonder how much it would hurt to just jump from the car and tuck and roll like in the movies. I didn't however and just decided to play along and do what he asked, "Um…ok, I promise." I answered.

He sighed again and looked at me, pulling the car in front of my house. He put it in park and turned all the way to face me. "I know you just said that to placate me, seeing as you have no memory of who you really are or what is going on, but I hope that somewhere in your subconscious it sticks, because the Tests aren't going to get any easier and you're running out of time—your body can only hold out for so long without a soul. You need to learn what you need to move on as quickly as possible, or else all will be lost, no matter how well you do."

I opened the door to the car, stepping out with one foot, "Right. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the ride, Officer, I'll talk to you later."

The officer gave a little half hearted wave, and then raised his hand, poised to snap, "Right, kid. I'll see you soon. Good luck. You're going to need it."

Before I could ask him what he meant, he snapped and I felt myself falling, once again, into darkness.

---

A/n: You know, I really need to stop writing these things at night, because then I find myself sitting here, at 330am, when I have to wake up at 9 for class, determined to finish so that my brain will just give me some peace for once. Evil brain. But there you guys go. Part four is up. Only five more sins to go, and they're all kinda doozies. The next chapter is going to be horribly violent, and therefore will not be for the faint of heart or stomach. I'm not sure how far I will take it violence wise, but it's not going to be filled with butterflies and rainbows, I'll tell you that much. I do, however want to keep this at a pg-13 rating (though I wonder how well I'm keeping that, considering my language choice at most times), so it will probably not be too horribly graphic. Probably close to the same level that FPL was. But still, there's your warning.

There were two references in this chapter, one obvious, one horribly obscure, and if anyone can get it than you are awesome and you know your web-comics. If you can't find it, then you're still awesome, cos you're reading this, so it really doesn't matter. Prize a Dib plushie.

I'm amused at everyone's responses to the last chapter and the way Gaz acted in it. You're right—she prolly will go back to being a royal bitch once she's cured, but then again, she might not. Coming as close to death as she has may put the fear of God into her, but we'll never know.

I agree, however, with Kitsune's statement about why Gaz acts the way she does. I agree whole heartedly, yet I can't seem to find a way to express that. That was the original point to the first part of GDB (which I need to work on, by the way, and I apologize that I haven't updated it at all), but once I put myself into her head, though I felt her pain, I couldn't express it in a way that didn't sound contrived or like I was making excuses. Treating her like that is like saying that it's alright that a serial killer mutilates hundreds of people because he was molested as a child, or that it was understandable that Hitler was a fucked up as he was cos his Jewish stepfather beat him as a child. It doesn't work that way. The Ends are what justify that Means, not the other way around. I feel bad that I can't put the girl in a more positive light, but that's just how she writes herself, I can't help it. She is, however, my absolute favorite character to write for, as I can take out all of my frustrations from the day with her words. Though now that I think of it, I've been doing the same thing with Dib, as well, lately, having him grow some balls and stand up to her, even though it's not something that is necessarily healthy or in the right context. Maybe you guys are starting to realize what he's taking the Tests to learn. If not, keep reading, you'll get it eventually. Dibsthe1 is close, but not in such a negative way.

Here's something fun—I'm using the plot of this story as an attempt at writing a real novel. The only reason I'm actually even writing this version of it is to form my ideas and basic plot out and to work on things that I've always had problems with—dialog, character voice, plot development, etc. That's what I think that Fanfiction is all about, really—it gives us good practice for our own writing without having to worry about character development. Everyone who reads this already know and care about the characters, so you can focus more on the story that you want to tell. At least that's what I'm getting out of it. But at any rate, I'm about half way done with the first chapter of the Real version of this story, and will be putting it up on Fictionpress when I'm done. If anyone is interested in helping me out and reading it—giving constructive criticism and input and such, let me know, and I'll put the link up in the A/n of the next chapter. I only ask this because I've noticed that loyal readership/ comments are kinda of few and far between on that site as compared to here, and I would greatly appreciate any input that you guys might have. So let me know on that, alright? It would mean a lot.

But I'm rambling, again (I tend to do that, a lot) and I'm going to stop typing now so I can post this and then get to bed. I dread class in the morning. Ugh.

Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews, everyone. Keep it up!

-j


	5. Blood

A/n: So it seems that I've pissed some people off in the last chapter. Good. That's what I was going for. I like this idea of Dib turning out to be such an asshole that you don't know whether or not to be on his side. I like the idea that Gaz finally got what she has had coming for her, but not in the right context. The fact that I was able to have some readers go "Yay! Oh…wait a minute…" makes me giggle uncontrollably. Yes, I know, I am an evil, evil author.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your fabulous reviews. One thing that I have to clear up for Kitsune: Lust is Not going to be a slash thing. It really won't even be very sexual. Any slash that's going to be in this fic will prolly show up in the Envy chapter and only be hinted at. There will be no graphic sex. The Gluttony chapter had the most sex that this fic will have, prolly. How can you have Lust without sex, you may ask? Heh. You'll see. Lust can mean very many things. However, that chapter will be on the disturbing side and will deal with some serious issues, so it still may be hard to read…I know that it will be hard to write, if only because I am going to use it to work out some of my own personal issues. But anyhow, I just wanted to clear that up, cos I think that my opening A/n in the last chapter was misread.

Oh, yeah, references:

-"…and a thirty hour nap." This is extremely obscure and is from a web comic I read called "Stubble" (www(dot)stubblecomics(dot)com). Everyone should check it out, it's a good read. I just think that it's a funny thing to say, now, and has kinda become one of my phrases at work…thirty hour nap…heh.

-Dib hit Gaz while on Spooner Street. Who lives on Spooner Street? Why the Griffin family on the tv show "Family Guy", of course. If you've never watched Family Guy you need to watch Cartoon Network at night more often, cos seriously, that is some Funny Shit.

WARNING: This chapter is on the extreme side of violent and draws a lot from JTHM.

Ps. I just realized that this story is up to 114 pages, not including this chapter (cos I write these little notes before I do the chapter). FPL ended up being 108. I'm only 4 chapters into this one, while FPL was 14 including the epilogue. Holy crap, I think I might be writing a novel here. Wow.

Pps: Let me know if the pacing in this chapter is understandable. I tried to go for a slight Vanilla Sky type pacing, as you will see, but with this being just words and not visual, it's hard to convey what is taking place when and where. Does that make sense?

Is it odd that I'm writing this while listening to Ben Folds/Ben Folds Five?

DISCLAIMER: I own not IZ. 'Cept on Dvd…does that count? hopeful face

You Only Live Twice

PART FIVE: In which Dib tastes blood.

Main Entry: **wrath**  
Pronunciation: 'rath, _chiefly British _'roth  
Function: _noun_  
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English _wrAEththo, _from _wrAth _wroth - more at WROTH  
**1** strong vengeful anger or indignation  
**2** retributory punishment for an offense or a crime divine chastisement  
**synonym** see ANGER

I watched in calm acceptance as my blood swirled in the sink and down the drain, causing the normally pristinely white porcelain to take on a faint pink hue. My body ached from head to toe, and, upon looking at my hazy reflection in the mirror above the sink though my broken glasses, I realized that I barely recognized myself. Weren't bullies supposed to _calm down_ once you reached high school? Weren't they supposed to point that energy _elsewhere_, such as football or wrestling or some other contact sport? If this were the case, then why the hell was I still being beaten up and shoved into lockers for my lunch money in the tenth grade? Could Torque's social development really be that stunted? Honestly.

I sighed and raised the now rinsed and wrung out washcloth back to the numerous cuts on my face, wincing at the feel of the rough cotton. I would take the laser burns that came with my fights with Zim when I was a kid any day over this. Zim. The thought of my old arch-enemy caused a familiar twinge of pain in my stomach. Who would think, after so many years of trying to get rid of the irritating alien that I would actually _miss_ him when he was finally gone? He had left one day towards the end of the eighth grade. The memory took my attention away from the pain that cleaning my wounds was causing, so I took a moment to focus on it. Emotional discomfort was for some reason easier than physical to deal with. I guess because I was just used to it.

"_Wake up, Dib-Worm."_

_I opened my eyes, slowly, groggily, at the sound of my enemy's voice. _

"_Go 'way, Zim," I grumbled, squinting at him in the darkness, "you can gloat over whatever the hell you're planning in the morning. I'm tired." I rolled over, away from his form that was perched on my window sill. I heard him growl deep in this throat and jumped, startled, as I felt one of his robotic spider legs poke me in the small of the back. _

"_What the hell was that for!" I whined, sitting up and turning to face him. I reached blindly behind me for my glasses that were resting on the nightstand, and, finally finding them, placed them on my face. Now that I could see, I noticed Zim's irritated expression. He was without his disguise and glaring at me so hard his ruby eyes almost glowed, however, there was something behind that glare. Some emotion that I rarely saw from the alien. Sadness? Regret? _

"_I'm leaving, Dib-worm." He stated. _

_I looked at him for a moment, not comprehending, and then shrugged, "Good, it will save me the trouble of getting out of bed and kicking you out. I'm going back to sleep, goodnight." I started to take my glasses back off and lay back down, when I felt a gloved hand clamp down on my bare shoulder, halting my movements. I always forgot how strong he was._

"_No, you stupid child, I'm _leaving._ As in the _planet_. I'm going back to Irk."_

_I turned towards him, again, shock and understanding written on my features. "What do you mean, you're going back to Irk? What about your mission?"_

_Zim laughed bitterly, releasing his hold on my shoulder, "There _is_ no mission, Dib. The Tallests lied to me. I was sent here to die, nothing else. Your planet has always been safe. It was never marked for conquest by the Empire."_

_It took me a moment to digest this new information; to fully understand what he was saying, "If your mission was a joke; if you were sent here by your leaders to die, then why go back? Why don't you just stay here?"_

"_Because I've been sent for. There's a war going on between a resistance faction and Irk. The planet Meekrob, one of our greatest enemies, has sided with the Resisty and my planet is losing. I've been…drafted, you could say. The Tallests are desperate for soldiers, so they've sent for me to return to the Massive to aid them."_

"_Wait a minute—your leaders send you here to die, lie to you about your mission, treat you like shit at every turn, and now expect you to help them win a little war, possibly dying to do it? You've got to be kidding me! Why are you going?"_

"_It's my duty, Dib. I have to. I'm a soldier. It's my duty to protect the Massive and my leaders."_

"_Fuck duty!" I swore, pounding my fist on the bed, "You don't owe them anything, especially not your life; not after the way they've treated you! Don't go, Zim. Stay here. Let them be destroyed."_

_He shook his head, sadly, looking away from me, "I don't expect you to understand, Dib. I just wanted you to know. You've been an honorable enemy these past few years, and I respect you, which is why I am telling you this. I didn't want to just disappear on you. You deserve better than that."_

_I could feel the hot pressure of tears behind my eyes, "If you respect me and I've I'm such an honorable enemy, then respect my wishes and _stay hereOur _war isn't over, yet, Zim—you can't just run off and go fight another!" I was acting childish, I knew, but the thought that, once again, someone important to me was just leaving, just abandoning me, had woken up some small helpless part of me that refused to accept change. _

_Zim growled again, and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly, "You foolish child, don't you think that, if I _could _stay, I _would_? I have no choice in the matter! Haven't I explained to you before that my brain, my personality, my very _being_ is programmed into my Pak? After transmitting the message telling me to come back to Irk, the Tallests put a tracer on my Pak. They hacked into my programming and made it so that my very _essence _is telling me to come back. If I ignore it I will be driven insane. They've left me no choice, Dib. I have to go."_

_I reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder, gripping him hard the same way he was holding me, "We can fix that! We can work on your Pak, find the part of it that the Tallests are tapping into and disable it! Remove the part that is still connected to the collective! We can work _around_ this, Zim, just let me—"_

"NO_!" Zim shouted, pushing me away from him, "It is too late, Dib! Don't you think that I might have already thought of that? If I disable the part that connects me to the collective, if I turn off the part that the signal is coming from, I will _die._ I _have_ to go, Dib, I'm sorry, I know that it bothers you. I am not without emotion, myself, and the thought of going off and possibly losing my life for those…creatures…makes me physically ill. But it cannot be helped, Human, I have to go."_

"_Zim…" I reached my hand out to him, pleading one last time for him to change his mind. He just looked at me and shook his head, and I allowed my hand to fall back on to the bed in front of me. _

_Zim climbed back onto the window sill and sat with one leg on either side. "You were a worthy opponent, Dib. It was an honor to do battle with you."_

"_I…" I cleared my throat, forcing the emotions I was feeling into submission, "The honor was mine, Zim. Good luck."_

_He nodded, turned to leave and then paused, turning back and placing on gloved hand on my head, smoothing back my hair once in a gesture that I didn't think that the alien was even capable of. He gave one more sad smile as he pulled his hand back and then hoisted himself out of the window and into his Voot Cruiser which was hovering outside. Through the window I could see Gir sucking on a popsicle. The robot waved at me, a goofy grin on his face. I waved back, sadly. _

_Zim met my eyes one last time and gave a solemn salute. I retuned the gesture, holding the pose long after the alien's ship had faded from my sight, and into the night sky._

"Damn it, Dib, get out of there! I have to pee!" My sister's voice broke me out of my reverie, startling me so that I pressed down a bit harder than intended on a rather vicious cut on my cheek, causing it to start bleeding again.

"Shit!" I swore under my breath as I pressed the cloth down harder to stanch the blood, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Gaz pounded on the door, again, "I'm serious, Dib, get out of there! You can masturbate in your room like a normal person!"

"Hold on a second!" I shouted, wringing the cloth out in the sink, again, "And I'm not jerking off!"

"Yeah, right! Why the hell else would you have been in there for an hour!"

I swung the door open, hard, revealing to her why, exactly, I had been in there for the last hour or so. I heard her gasp, raising a hand to her throat as I glared down at her, her eyes large with surprise and shiny with worry. The moment passed quickly, however, and the familiar detached coldness returned to her eyes as she pushed me harshly out of her way.

"If you got blood on the floor, again, you're going to have to clean it up before Dad gets home, cos there's no way in hell I'm going to." She stated, gruffly before slamming the bathroom door behind her, the knob pressing sharply into the small of my back, causing me to wince as it hit a bruise.

"Yeah, no problem, Sis, thanks for your concern. I'm fine." I mumbled to myself as I made my way to my room. Once there, I closed the door softly behind me and, moving slowly so as to not aggravate my wounds, set about removing my clothing. Twenty long and painful minutes later, I stood in front of my full length mirror, clad only in my boxers, analyzing every cut, scrape, bruise, and scar with a scientist's eye. Was this body really mine? Was this battered and beaten person really me? My skin was more purple and yellow than peach, angry red welts and cuts striped my skin like a tiger, every breath was torture and I could detect a faint movement in my chest that probably meant a rib or two were broken. What had become of me? How was I even surviving this torture?

I sighed and moved away from the mirror, flopping down on my unmade bed, cringing at the fact that even the soft cotton of my sheets hurt my body. I crossed my arms behind my head and stared up at the glow in the dark stars that lined my ceiling. What was I going to do? How was I going to deal with this? How was I going to survive the rest of the tenth grade being pounded to a bloody pulp daily?

"_Fight back," _A small voice whispered,_ "show them that you're not going to take it, anymore."_

"I've tried that," I answered, sighing and closing my eyes, "I tried to fight back against Torque last year and ended up with a broken wrist for my trouble."

"_There are better ways to fight back. More effective ways."_

"Being?"

"_Weapons, Dib. Knives. Guns. Power tools. Anything that will cause extreme bodily harm. When you hold your enemy's life in your hands, that is when you truly have the power."_

"When I hold my—" I sat up, looking around the room, skeptically for any sort of recording devices that might be transmitting the voice. It was so different from the one that I normally heard; the other side of my internal conversations. This one was raspy, guttural, angry in such a primitive, destructive way. This one couldn't be mine. "I'm not going to kill anyone, if that's what you're insinuating." I stated, still looking around.

"_Are you so quick to deem my ideas unworthy?" _The voice asked.

"Are you so quick to assume I'm going to take the advice of a disembodied voice?" I retorted.

The voice chuckled, the sound not unlike that of air passing through a skull, _"Very wise, Dib. Very wise. It shall be fun to break you."_

I was starting to get angry, "Who are you? Where are you transmitting from?" I demanded, my eyes moving quickly behind my glasses, scanning for something, anything that could explain this voice.

"_I am older than the gods, Dib, and it is time for me to come into power, again. It has been so _long_ since I've had a decent Waste Lock under my command. This shall be most satisfying."_

"Waste Lock? What are you talking about? Who are you? What do you want from me?" I shouted, but it was too late, the voice, the presence, was gone, leaving me alone once again.

-

"Now this voice," the doctor began, snapping me back to the present, "was this the first time you had heard it?"

I was sitting in a chair in Dr. V's office, in the middle of one of our thrice weekly sessions.

"What?" I asked, dumbly. To tell the truth I hadn't even realized I had been speaking out loud. A habit left over from my childhood, I guess.

"The voice. The one you heard in your room that night—was it the first time that you had heard it?"

"I…" I had to think for a moment. I heard so many voices, so many words in my mind that it was hard to tell one from another, "I don't know. I think so, but I can't really be sure."

Dr. V narrowed his eyes behind is oval framed glasses and sighed, "Alright, Dib, continue. You heard a voice telling you that you were a, what was it? 'Waste Lock'?"

I nodded.

"Ok, a Waste Lock. What then?"

-

"Hey, Dib, c'mere!" Torque's voice echoed through the hall way. I focused my attention into the locker in front of me. Just pull what books you need and walk to class, pull what books you need and walk to class, pull what books you need and ignore that giant hand that has somehow made its way to your shoulder and is turning you around and dear God this kid needs a breath mint something fierce.

"You should know better by now than to _ignore_ me, Dib," the bully growled, his face mere inches from my own.

"S-sorry, Torque, I didn't hear you," I stammered, lamely, squinting to see through the lenses of my glasses that Torque's breath was fogging up.

The bully glared at me for a moment, but my excuse seemed to satisfy him, because he let go of the hold he had on my shoulder, roughly, the force slamming me into the locker behind me.

"You have something for me, right, Membrane?"

Shit. I had completely forgotten because I had hurt so badly the night before. The reason I was even beaten up in the first place was because, in a moment of personal vengeance, I had given Torque the wrong answered to his Bio test—a test that I had taken the period before he had. Because he failed so miserably, the teacher offered him a make up exam, and I had sworn (only after feeling my shoulder begin to slide from it's socket as the larger boy twisted my arm behind my back) to give him the correct answers today.

However, since the test had been a week ago, and there was no guarantee that the teacher was even going to give him the same form as last time, there was no way that I could hand over the information Torque sought. But there was no way I was going to tell _him_ that.

"I—I don't have it, Torque. May-maybe you should have tried studying like everyone else." I stated, trying desperately to stand tall against the bully. To show him that I wasn't afraid. To not piss myself.

Torque's face grew red with anger, "You. Don't. Have. It." He repeated.

I shook my head, "No, I don't. And—and I'm not going to have any answers for you, anymore. You—you can do your own work."

Torque's eyes narrowed at me, then, and I felt myself gulp in an attempt to rid myself of the rather large lump that had formed in my throat. Suddenly, however, something seemed to clear in the other boy's eyes and he smiled. For some reason I wasn't comforted.

"Alright, Membrane. That's cool. You don't want to help me, you don't have to."

I was aghast. "Really?"

Torque smirked, "No."

That said, I was caught off guard with a fist to the stomach. Pulling me away from my instinctual position of being curled around the injury, Torque pulled my head up by my hair and slammed me back into the locker. I could hear a crowd surrounding us, chants and cries of "Fight! Fight!" echoing through the hall. Though my crooked glasses and tear-filled eyes I saw Gaz standing on the outskirts of the crowd. I watched as she shook her head at me in disgust and then turned on her heels, leaving me behind.

As I watched her fading figure, something inside of me grew. Something hot and angry.

"_That's is, Dib,"_ the voice whispered in my ear, _"feel your anger. Embrace it. Let it take you over."_

"No." I growled through teeth that were clinched in pain as Torque continued to rain blows down upon me.

"_Yesss, Dib, yessss. Don't fight it. You know you can't fight it. Breath it in."_

"No." I managed again, my voice slightly stronger. I felt my hand groping behind me into my locker, feeling for something, anything that would make both the voice and the pain stop.

"Are you still telling me 'no', Membrane?" Torque scoffed, landing another punch by my eye, "Haven't you learned your lesson, yet?"

"_Yes, Dib, haven't you learned?"_ the voice mocked, _"Don't talk back. Don't think. Just act."_

My fumbling fingers found something; something long and smooth. My hand clutched it for dear life as I felt the hot emotion grow stronger, louder, the blood pulsing in my ears. No, there was no way. There was no way I was going to keep taking it. There was no way I was just going to stand here and—

"_Yes!"_ the voice shouted, somehow louder than the crowd, _"Yes!"_

No, no. no. no. no. no…

"NO!" I shouted, bringing my fist that was clutching the object from my locker up and into Torque's stomach. He stood for a minute, his face a mask of shock and horror as the crowd grew silent around us. He then stumbled backwards, his hands coming to rest on the pencil that was sticking out of his abdomen, blood beginning to drip from the wound onto the floor.

He looked down at it and began to laugh, "You…you stabbed me…with a pencil?" He gasped, giggling hysterically. He dropped to his knees, hands still pressed tight on the wound.

"Shit." I swore, rushing forward to try and support the fallen bully. I pulled his hands away from the wound to examine it myself. Seeing the amount of blood that was flowing and the way that he was trembling, his lips taking on a faint blue sheen, I jerked my head up and stared at the crowd who still stood there like cattle.

"Someone get the nurse!" I shouted. No one moved. "God damn it! Go! He's going into shock! Fucking get the nurse!"

Something in my voice must have triggered some button in their heads because everyone began to move at once. Some crying, some backing away in horror, others running towards the nurses office and the closest classrooms, or pulling out cell phones, desperate to be the one who got to be the hero; who brought help.

Turning back to Torque, I pressed my hands alongside his to try and stanch the flow of blood. His eyes were rolled back into his head, unconscious, but he was breathing steadily, so that was a good thing. I doubted that a person could die from a pencil in the gut, but the fact that he was in shock didn't make things much better.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I was pushed out of the way by a very frantic nurse. As I stood and backed away from the area to give her space, I felt a hand clamp down hard on my shoulder, and found myself staring up at the face of Mr. Prickley, the principal. He didn't look too happy.

"Mind telling me what happened, here, Son?" He asked.

I sighed, while the voice laughed, and laughed and...

-

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Huh?"

Dr. V sighed and ran his hand through his vivid red hair, "When you stabbed the Smacky boy—how did that make you feel?"

I thought for a moment, trying to put my thoughts into order, trying to come up with a clear idea that was my own within the cloudy tangle that the medication the doctors had me on was making of my brain.

"I felt…" I began, still trying to think, "I felt…strong. Powerful. I had finally taken something into my own hands, and stood up for myself, but…"

"But?"

"But I had hurt him. Badly. I mean, it was just a pencil, but he could have died. It wasn't nearly as bad as what I ended up—" I cut myself off. I didn't want to think about that right now.

"What you ended up doing to your sister?" Dr. V pressed.

I glared at him from under my bangs. Damn it, I didn't want to _think_ about that right now. "Yes."

"And this voice…the one that called you a 'Waste Lock', it's the one that urged you to do this? That urged you to hurt people?"

"Yes, damn it!" I was on my feet, pacing the room, that hot, angry feeling teasing at my brain through the clouds of the medication, "Do you think that I would to that kind of stuff on my own? Do you think that I'm capable of that…of that kind of…damage…on my own?"

Dr. V watched me pace, "So you don't feel as if that voice is an extension of yourself? Of your repressed anger?"

"No…no it can't be. It didn't…doesn't sound like any of the other voices. It doesn't sound like me."

"Perhaps after too long in a cage, it warped. Maybe that's why it sounds so different." He offered.

"No, no, that can't be it."

Dr. V sighed and rearranged himself in his chair. "Aright, Dib, please continue. What happened after you stabbed Torque Smacky?"

-

Five hours and a trip to the police station later, I finally made it home. Letting myself into the seemingly empty house, I closed my eyes and leaned against the door, letting out a frustrated and exhausted sigh as I slid down its cold surface to the floor. Torque would be alright—I hadn't accidentally hit any organs when I stabbed him—and, based on mitigating circumstances, his parents weren't pressing charges. I was, however, suspended from school for three days, and had to go down to the station to be printed and held for a few hours on the charge of aggravated assault. After the Smackys informed that there would be no charges pressed, and once everyone realized who my father was, I was set free. I guess having a famous father had its advantages.

Stripping off my trench coat and tossing it on the back of the couch, I made my way to the kitchen. I hadn't eaten all day and my stomach was making that fact pretty well known.

Gaz was sitting at the table, her trusty Gameslave in her hands, a half eaten slice of leftover pizza on a plate in front of her. She didn't look up as I took a box of Bagel Bites out of the freezer, put half on a plate, thought for a moment, and then added the rest, sticking all 20 of them into the microwave. I hopped up on the counter, gasping in pain once I made it, having forgotten about my misplaced ribs. Gaz showed no reaction to the sound, and continued to play her video game, pausing only to take a quick bite from her dinner.

The timer on the microwave stated that it had been two minutes and twenty four seconds before my sister decided to speak.

"So how was jail?" She asked, her eyes not leaving the small screen of her consol.

A familiar annoyance rose in me as I glared at the little bitch that shared my genes from across the room, "How did you know where I was?"

"You stabbed Torque Smacky with a pencil, where else would you be?" Pause, bite, chew, shrug, "Besides, the station called the house looking for Dad."

Damn. "He wasn't home, was he?"

Gaz let out a bitter laugh that almost caused her to choke on her pizza, "Or course he was, Dib, he was baking cookies, what do you think, moron?"

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, "Did you give the cops the number to the lab?"

I watched the back of my sister's head shake.

"So Dad doesn't know what happened?"

Another shake.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

"God had nothing to do with it." Gaz scoffed.

I was about to open my mouth to say something else, but just then the timer went off, signaling that my pizza bagels were done. Slowly sliding off the counter so as to not injure myself further I set about taking my dinner from the microwave and fixing them neatly on the plate. Burning one of my fingers on the hot cheese, I hissed and stuck the appendage into my mouth.

"_Ask her if she even noticed you being beat to a pulp this afternoon. Go on. I dare you."_ the voice hissed.

I thought for a moment, still sucking on my finger and then shrugged to myself. What could it hurt? Continuing to arrange the bagels I asked, as nonchalantly as possible, "So why did you just walk away this afternoon?"

"The situation seemed to be under control." my sister's voice answered from behind me.

I spun to face her, or as much of her as I could see of her, considering her back was still towards me, "Torque was kicking my ass!"

Shrug, pause, bite, chew. "Like I said: under control."

I glared at her, but bit my tongue, turning back towards my food.

"_Are you really going to take that from her?"_ the voice sneered, _"Are you really going to sit there while your little sister takes the upper hand?"_

"What am I supposed to do about it?" I mumbled.

"Will you be quiet, already? You're fucking up my game."

I felt my hands clench on the edge of the counter.

"_That's it," _the voice urged, soothingly, _"feel your anger. Dib. Let it in. 'What are you supposed to do about it?' Why _fight back_, of course! Like you did with the Smacky boy."_

"No." I murmered.

"What did you say?"

I ignored her, focusing only on the voice.

"_No? Dib, you have no choice in the matter. Do you really want to be a welcome mat your entire life? A carpet? Someone for everyone to wipe the shit off their shoes on? The little wench behind you is a perfect example of everything you should hate about the world. She cares nothing about what is outside of her little deluded bubble; only about what she brings into it. She is nothing but a consumer, Dib. A consumer who makes your life miserable by her very presence. You should do something about that."_

"No, no I won't do that." I whispered.

"Again with the 'no'. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I felt the anger suddenly rise up and consume me. My body moved of its own accord, stalking across the room and ripping the GameSlave from my sister's hands.

"You! You're what is wrong with me!" I shouted, throwing the consol across the room. It cracked in half on impact with the wall, setting its ghostly powers free before the plastic shell clattered into the sink.

My sister was on her feet in an instant, her eyes glowing with rage, "You had better be hiding a new GameSlave around here, somewhere, Dib, or so help me—"

"What? What are you going to do, Gaz? 'Doom me'?" I asked, my voice dripping with mockery, "Give me a break. I'm tired of your bullshit, Gaz. I'm not going to take it, anymore."

She was advancing on me, her body tense and poised to attack, "Oh you'll take it, alright. You'll take it and—"

Her words were cut short as I lunged at her, pinning her to the wall with one arm pressed against her throat. "I don't think, so, little sister." I sneered, holding my face only a few inches from my own, forcing my weight on my arm so that it cut off her air supply, "You see, I'm not going to listen to you, anymore. I'm not going to listen to any of the shit that you and people like you spew from your hideous mouths, any more. Do you understand me?"

She was gasping for air, her small hands tugging at my arm, ignoring my question. I growled deep in my throat and pressed down harder. "I _said_, do you _understand me_!"

She let out a croaking noise and nodded. "Good." I stated, smiling sadistically, "Now stay the _fuck_ out of my way."

That said, I felt the anger and the strength that came with it drain out of me like liquid, causing me to feel cold from my head down to my toes. I staggered a bit at the sensation, releasing Gaz, who slid down the wall into a shuddering, gasping heap. I stared in wide eyed disbelief at her, and then at my hands, and then ran from the room. I grabbed my trench from its place on the couch on my way out the door. I needed to get out of there, and I needed to get out of there fast. In the back of my mind, I heard laughter.

-

I didn't even realize where I was running to until I got there. Zim's hideous green house stood empty, as it had for the past three years, the familiar glow having faded long before that, even. I stood, looking up at it for a few long moments, the wind blowing my hair in a million different directions. I shivered, pulling my trench closer around me and began to walk up to the front door.

The gnomes paid me no heed as I pushed open the door. The never did, anymore, of course, their artificial intelligence having been cut off when Zim cut the power to the base. I entered the darkened living room, walking over to and flopping on the couch, coughing slightly at the cloud of dust that rose from the unused piece of furniture.

Laying there, in my enemy's abandoned home, I stared that the wire covered ceiling, wondering what the hell had been happening, lately. Was I finally going insane? Had I been all along? Had my ability to just sit and take whatever bullshit was thrown at me just finally reached its peak?

"_Stop trying to think of excuses, Dib, you're never going to come up with a logical explanation." _

I sighed and closed my eyes. I really wasn't in the mood for this right now. "Go away. Haven't you done enough, today?"

The voice chuckled, _"This is just the start, my unwitting little slave."_

"I am not your slave." I muttered, determination making my voice stronger than I truly felt.

"_You're always slave to something."_

In that moment, I thought that I heard a faint echo in the voice, as if two people were speaking at once. I sat up and glanced around the room, searching for something that could have made that effect. Seeing nothing, I laid back down, sliding my glasses up to rest on the top of my head, as I rubbed my hands over my face.

"Why are you doing this?" I moaned.

"_Why am _I_ doing this? You're mistaken, Dib. _I'm _not doing anything. _You're _the one doing it all."_

"That isn't true," I told the inside of my palms, "you're taking over my body, making me do things."

"_I'm doing nothing of the sort, Dib. I may put the suggestions into your head, but in the end, it's your body doing the dirty work. Your hands have always itched to be in control—I'm just giving them the power to do so."_

"And how is that different from taking me over; from destroying my self control?"

"_You mean to tell me that you've never wanted to hit Torque back? That you've never wanted to give Gaz a taste of her own medicine?"_

"Well, yeah, but—"

"_But nothing! You're getting what you want, so what's the problem?"_

"It's wrong, that's my problem!" I was sitting now, my voice rising to shout my words, knowing that no one would hear me but the ghosts of my childhood.

"_You ungrateful child!"_ The voice shouted, causing waves of pain through my skull. I fell off the couch to my knees, holding my ears, afraid that my brain might start leaking out if I didn't, _"I offer you the power that you need to rise above the shit that stains this world, and you tell me that it is _wrong?_ How much worse is it than what you have gone through every day of your fragile existence? You should be thanking me, using the power I bestow on you with vigor and resolve, not shrinking away from it like a kicked puppy! I am giving you the power to be invincible, invulnerable, immune and invisible to the authorities! To get away with murder! And you deny me?"_

"Yes!" I shouted, through the pain, "Yes, I do! I want to _save_ people, not _destroy _them!"

"_And who says that they need to be saved? What makes you think that they have the right to live, considering the way they so thoughtlessly treat others? They are slime, Dib, a mere pestilence. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you give in, the less painful this will become. You won't even remember this uncomfortable transition; this painful past. All you will know is the blood, and in the end, that's all that matters."_

"Never." I choked. God, it hurt so badly. I had to resist the urge to take my hands from my head to check for blood. It felt like my skull was ripping itself in half. However, at the pinnacle moment where it seemed that I would be driven insane from the pain, it relented. I collapsed in a heap on the floor, unable to move, barely able to even stand breathing.

"_Perhaps I am moving too soon,"_ the voice mused,_ "it seems as if more training is in order. I shall be patient until then. Your soul is mine, Dib. Remember that. You have no free will. You have been marked from birth and shall always be mine."_

That said, I felt the voice fade, retreating back into whatever dark cavern in my subconscious it dwelled. And there, on the floor of Zim's base, amongst the dirt and grime of the past three years, I slept.

-

"I don't want to talk about this, anymore." I stood by the large picture window in Dr. V's office, staring at the street below, watching as the world continued to move, as I sat stagnant in this disgusting little hospital. I felt a slight moment of vertigo, and closed my eyes, swallowing hard, trying ignore the urge to embrace the feeling and propel myself though the glass.

"You really don't have a choice in the matter," the good doctor stated, his voice floating, disembodied, from behind me.

"No, I guess I don't do I?" I mused, opening my eyes. I blew out a breath of air against the cold surface of the window, and using my index finger drew the letter Z followed by a question mark. It was an image that had been floating behind my eyelids since I had first heard the voice. An unanswerable question. I hated unanswerable questions. "If a tree falls in the woods and no one's around to hear it, what's the sound of one hand clapping" Zen bullshit. It made me ill. But then, so did a lot of things.

I turned away from the window and stalked back to the chair across from the stoic doctor. Throwing myself backwards into it, I stretched my limbs, tensing every muscle until they creaked in delicious agony before finally releasing them, sighing and falling limp.

I eyed the doctor from behind my glasses. "Why do you even care, Doc? Why are you bothering? I'm here for a reason, right? I'm completely and utterly, irreversibly insane. Why waste your time shrinking my already shortsighted head?"

"Because you're not crazy, Dib. There's just something that you need to see; need to realize. Once you pinpoint the exact moment where you could have snapped—the exact second where you made the conscious decision to keep your soul, you can be free of this nightmare. You can move on. You've come too far to let this beat you."

"And if you have so much faith in me, why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what I need to know? Tell me this 'pinnacle moment' you speak of. Quite with the psycho analytical 'tell me about your mother' shit."

The red-headed doctor shook his head, "I can't do that, Dib. That's cheating. I'm breaking enough rules as it is. This is something that you need to figure out for yourself."

I glared at him through my bangs, "If you want to help me, Doc, than help me."

"I'm trying, but you first need to help yourself."

"Asshole."

The man shrugged, "If that's what you think, than think it. However, remember, asshole or not, I'm the only one who gives a flying fuck about you right now. I think that it would be in your best interest to listen to me."

I looked at him, distrust fully evident in my eyes, "That all seems very convenient. How do I know that you're not just in my head like everything else?"

Dr. V chuckled, giving me a knowing smirk, "And how do I know that you're not just in mine?"

"Good point." I didn't like that smile, but there was nothing I could really do about it. Not without the proper tools, anyhow.

"Alright, so let's get started again, shall we?"

I sighed and slumped further in my seat, putting my weight onto my back as I sat. "Yeah, fine, whatever." I conceded.

-

The next week or so passed by pretty much uneventfully. I returned to school after my three day suspension period was over, seemingly to the chagrin of my classmates, who watched me with fearful and wary eyes. But at least they were leaving me alone, for once, which was a welcome respite from the normal daily routine of ridicule I would have had to face, otherwise.

Torque still hadn't returned from the hospital. Either that or his parents were keeping him at home for the time being. Either way, he wasn't there when I came back from my suspension, and I thanked the gods for finally giving me a break.

While the voice had stayed true to its word, and been patient, leaving my thoughts to myself, I could still feel it tickling the outside of my brain. I found myself delving into horribly violent fantasies about sawing cheerleaders' legs off and doing horrible things with salad tongs. These visions disturbed me so much that I began to actually pay attention in class, if only to keep my thoughts in the present and to stop my imagination from taking over.

One day, about two weeks after the incident with Torque, I was approached by Zita, the fallen queen of the school. Her father had run out on her family in the eight grade, taking with him all of their savings. Having a bankrupt family has a horribly effect on your popularity, I guess, because by the next year, she was so far down on the totem pole that Gretchen had become her new best friend. However, this was still more popular than I was, which made me wonder why she was wanting to be seen with me.

However, I kept my curiosity to myself, and focused on my sandwich, acknowledging her presence only with a raised eyebrow as she sat down across from me.

"Hi, Dib." She greeted, her voice breathy. Ok, so that caught my attention, a bit. I raised my head from my plate to look at the girl.

"Um…hi, Zita. What do you want?"

"Want?" she feigned shock, raising a hand to her chest, causing my eyes to focus there. My mind and my body waged an internal war as I tried to raise my gaze. She may have become unpopular within the past few years, but her social status had done nothing to diminish her…assets, "Why do you automatically assume that I _want_ something? I was just trying to be nice and say hi. You just looked so lonely here, sitting all by yourself."

I raised my eyes from her chest to give her a skeptical glare. "Zita, I sit here, by myself, every day, and you know it, so cut to the chase. What do you want? Who put you up to talking to the 'crazy kid'?"

Her mask fell, and she frowned, slightly, "Alright, Shelia did. She dared me to come over and speak to you, saying that I could sit with them for the rest of the week if I did."

"Which would be a rather large boost to your popularity level."

"Exactly."

"Dear god, you're an idiot." Wait, what was that? I hadn't meant to say that out loud. The familiar tingle in my head was growing stronger. Shit.

"Excuse me?" the girl across from me asked, an indignant expression on her pretty face.

"_Yes, Dib, excuse you?"_ the voice mocked, chuckling.

"Not now!" I muttered, under my breath.

"Yes, now, Dib, who the hell do you think you are, calling me an idiot?"

"I think that I'm someone who knows idiocy, having been surrounded by it for the last 15 years," my mouth answered of its own accord.

Zita's face was turning red with anger, her entire body shaking as she tried to think of a come back, "Oh yeah? Well…well you're crazy, Dib! We all know that you killed that Zim kid, just like you tried to kill Torque!"

Wait, what?

"What the hell are you talking about, Zita? I didn't kill, Zim!"

"Bullshit, Dib," Zita spat, her voice raising, catching the attention of the rest of the lunch room, "how else would explain him just disappearing one day? What, did he fly off to his home planet or something?"

"Yes!"

"Right," she scoffed, "you two were always at each other's throats! You hated him, so who's to say you didn't stab him to death like you tried to do Torque?"

I clutched my fists at my sides, using all of my will power to keep my temper under control; to ignore the taunting voice in my head, "That's different. I never tried to kill Torque. It was an accident."

"Oh yeah, jamming a pencil into his gut was _real_ accidental."

We were both on our feet, now, only a table's width apart. "I suggest you stop talking, now, Zita, and walk away. I don't know how much longer I can keep the voice in check." I stated, spitting the words through my teeth.

"Voice?" Zita laughed, "You're hearing voices, now, Dib?"

"_She's so pretty on the outside, isn't see? Haven't you ever wondered what her _insides_ look like?"_

"Shut up!" I shouted, both to the voice and the purple haired girl.

"Do they tell you to do things, Dib? Do they tell you to _kill_ people?"

"_Oh, if only you knew, little girl. Of course it would help if my little slave would_ follow orders_ for once…"_

"Stop talking!" My hands were gripping the tabletop for dear life as I tried to keep them from grabbing the nearest sharp object and gouging out Zita's brain, right before doing the same to myself.

"You know, now that I think about it, wasn't your _mother_ murdered?"

"_Uh oh. Are you gonna let her bring up your mama like that?"_

"They never did find her killer, did they? I wonder if it was really…nah. You're not _that_ crazy that you killed your own _mother_, are you?"

That was it. The final straw. My body failed to be my own as I felt my hands latch onto my lunch tray, swinging it up and across to slam it into the side of Zita's head. She looked dazed for a minute as the blood began to trickle from her ear and I took the opportunity to repeat the motion, this time from the other side, knocking her to the ground. The lunch room was silent as I hit her, again and again, the only sound being the wet smacking of fiberglass on bone.

The strange silence continued until I rose from my position, my face and hands splattered with blood. Zita let out a weak moan and somehow that was the catalyst for chaos. It seemed as everyone realized what exactly was going on at once, and then moved as a herd, all barreling for the exits, trampling over one another to get away from the crazy kid with the lunch tray.

I could feel the voice grinning insanely as I stood there, amongst the rushing crowd, Zita's blood dripping off my hands, relishing the feeling of power, of control that was running through me.

"_You see?"_ the voice asked, _"you see the power that I'm bestowing on you? The power to fight back—to take control of your life. You like it, don't you?"_

"Yes." I whispered, turning my hands around over and over again in front of my face, marveling at the contrast of red on white. Beating Zita had done nothing to lower the blindingly hot rage that was inside of me, however. I needed something else. Something more.

My lunch tray in hand, I dove into the sea of bodies that were trying to escape. I swung wildly, each thrust meeting its target dead on, the sound resonating in my ears like music.

"You used to call me crazy in elementary school!" I informed one blond cheerleader.

"You stole my lunch money every day!" I enlightened a jock.

"You laugh at those who read only to cover up your own illiteracy!" I shouted as my tray connected with someone else's face.

One after the other, I made my way though the crowd, laughing along with the voice as I spilled the blood of my class mates. Finally the cafeteria was empty, aside from those I had injured, the only sound being their pained moans. Dropping the tray, I slapped my hands together as if brushing away dirt and exited the room, stepping over bodies as I went. Down the hall I went, past the classrooms, and out the front door. I didn't meet a single person on my way out.

-

Gaz was home when I got there. She had called in sick, that day, in order to play the new video game she had just bought. Her eyes met mine from the couch as I walked in the door and she dropped her controller in shock at my appearance.

"That blood isn't yours, is it?" She asked, deadpan, though her eyes were filled with fear.

I gave her a grin that I know made me look even more insane. I didn't care. I loved that look in her eyes; that frightened deer in the headlights look. This was going to be fun.

"Not all of it." I stated, taking a step towards her. She jumped to her feet, backing away from me, slowly, as I approached.

"I think that we need to call, Dad, Dib. Something is wrong with you."

I laughed, an empty, insane laugh that bounced off of the walls of the living room, "Oh, no, Gaz. Everything is perfectly all right. In fact, I feel better than I have in my entire life!"

She held her hands up in front of her, warding me off, "No, really, Dib. You need help, you need to talk to someone. A doctor or something." She stumbled a bit as her feet got caught on a fold in the rug.

Glancing at the coffee table, I noticed a sliced apple, a knife beside it. I stooped down to pick it up, testing its weight in my hand.

"Really? Do I need to talk to someone, Gaz?"

"Look, Dib, I—"

"Funny, I thought that I've been talking my entire life. To you, actually. Don't you remember?" I slid the knife into the pocket of my trench coat.

"Yeah, but—" She was running out of room to retreat, the wall was dangerously close. I almost had her in a corner. That thought made my smile widen.

"But you never listened, right? Always too busy playing your video game to listen to the ramblings of your poor, stupid, insane brother, right?"

"Dib—" She was against the wall, now, her eyes widening in horror as she felt it's pressure against her back. I closed in, standing inches away from her, my eyes boring into hers.

"Right?" I whispered, malice dripping off of the syllable.

In that moment, she chose to bolt, her eyes betraying her movement as she glanced the direction she was going to run. Years of fighting hand to hand with Zim had taught me well, and I met her movement head on with my fist making contact with her face.

She was thrown backwards from the force, her hands moving automatically to cradle her most likely broken nose.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it, Gazzy?" I laughed as I punched her again, this time in the stomach, doubling her over my fist, "Doesn't feel that great to be hit, does it?"

She recovered and righted herself, swinging wildly at me with one arm as the other still cradled her nose. I dodged it easily, causing her to spin around with her own unmet force, and I kicked her in the back, aiming for her kidney as she had so many times before, knocking her to the ground.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," I stated, grabbing her roughly by the shoulder, and turning her onto her back. I straddled her, my knees pinning her arms to keep her in place, "you're a girl! I can't hit you! I can only leave myself open to take it, right?" I felt her continue to squirm beneath me and positioned one of my feet over her legs, pinning them down as well. "Well, I think that, based on aggravated circumstances, we need to make a little amendment to that rule."

I pulled the knife from my pocket, watching as her eyes widened in horror and she began to scream in time to her thrashing. "You see, I don't think that rule should count if the female in question is a bitch." I rationalized, holding the blade of the knife over her head. "And you, Gaz," I brought the blade down, slowly, slicing into the thin skin of her forehead, "are," I carved a line, two ragged triangles attached to it. _B_. "possibly," another line, _I_. "the biggest," _T_. "bitch," _C. _ "I know." Three more lines carved in blood above my sister's eyes. _H_.

I leaned down close to her, my mouth an inch or two from hers, my eyes burning holes, reflecting all of the hate I had ever seen in hers, "And now, everyone will know."

She had become quiet as I was cutting, biting her lip till it bed, tears leaking from her eyes. Trying to be strong, but now that illusion crumbled. Now she screamed.

I rocked back on my heels, digging into her legs, laughing as she realized the extent of the damage I had done to her.

The voice took this time to add its two cents, _"Now, Dib, finish her."_

"What?" My laughter cut off abruptly as I tried to understand the voice's meaning.

"_This power that I've given you has just been for a trial. Now you must pay for the entire package. Pay me with her blood, Dib. Finish her."_

I was horrified. Giving the people that plagued my world what they deserved was one thing, but killing my sister? "What? No! I'm not going to kill her!"

"_Ingrate! Fool! You belong to me, now! Do as I command! Remember the bullshit this pathetic creature has put you through! Remember the torment and the pain! Remember your hatred!"_

I turned my head, looking at my sister's small face beneath me. She had grown pale from fear and blood loss, her eyes seeming too large for her face. I felt the hot anger bubbling inside of me, growing as I thought about how much pain this small creature had cast upon me, how I had been her punching bag to work out her anger at our mother's murder and the world in general. How every attempt I had ever made at sibling bonding had been met with scoffing ridicule.

My hand gripped the knife, my knuckles white on the hilt. Feeling hatred coursing through my veins, I rose it high above my head, the point directly over my sister's heart.

"_Yes!"_ the voice shouted, _"Yes!"_

Gaz's eyes reflected only painful understanding as she closed them and turned her head, one tear escaping from her lashes, tracing a pale line in the red that painted her skin.

"_That's it, my child! You know what you must do! Give her what she deserves! Give me her blood!"_

My hands holding the knife trembled as my mind made its decision. I brought it down, swiftly, in a solid arch—into my own stomach.

"_NO!"_ the voice cried.

The pain was unbearable as I ripped the blade from my abdomen. "I am not your slave!" I shouted, plunging the knife back into my skin, "I am not your slave!"

The world was spinning behind my closed eyes as I stabbed myself again and again, repeating my expression of freedom over and over again like a mantra, shouting it loud enough to cover the screaming of the voice inside of my mind.

I felt myself grow weaker and collapse, my mind becoming distant from my body, distant from the pain. I felt small hands pressing against my wounds as my consciousness faded in and out. A voice was shouting that her brother was hurt, and she needed an ambulance quickly. I felt a smile form on my lips as the blackness took over.

-

"And then I woke up, here, in the hospital." I shrugged, and munched on one of the doctor's complimentary pretzel sticks, "after it was determined I wouldn't die, they started making me come down here for you to pick over my brain. So what do you think, doc? Am I crazy?"

Dr. V rubbed his eyes under his glasses, "That depends, Dib. The question is not 'are you crazy' but 'did you learn anything'?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why couldn't you go through with it, Dib? Why didn't you kill your sister? Why didn't you let the rage and hatred take over?"

"Because…" I trailed off, at loss for an answer, "Because it was just…wrong. She's my sister! I couldn't just kill her. Something inside of me…something was just not allowing me to do it." I shook my head, "That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Dr. V smiled, "No, it makes perfect sense, Dib. You have a conscience. You're not crazy. Mislead, perhaps, abused defiantly, but not crazy. Human is more like it."

"Wait, so that's it? I almost killed all those people, and I'm just going to get off cos I'm _human_?"

He shook his head, "No, you're not getting off, Dib. At least this version of you isn't This version is going to get the therapy and legal correction he needs. You, however, you can go. You've made it."

"What? You're talking in riddles, man?"

"Am I?" he asked, standing and raising a hand, "I'm not going to be allowed to help you, anymore, Dib. The next few tests aren't under my control. The Powers That Be aren't too happy with me, anyhow. But I'll be leaving you in good hands. You'll meet your new Guide in a few moments."

I was on my feet, "Dr. V, I—"

He raised a hand, silencing me, and snapped before I could say anything else.

I felt myself falling as the world turned black.

-

A/n: Oh dear god, I'm glad that's done. I'm so sorry this took so long to get up, but Real Life wasn't letting me get a word in edgewise, lately.

References: There's really only one reference in here that isn't blatantly from JTHM. Yup.

At this point in time there are 36 reviews to this story. There are the same amount for FPL. The fact that I've gotten the same amount of response here in four chapters that I did there in fourTEEN makes me grin like a mad woman. Thank you guys oh so much. You are all awesome. Hello and thank you, also to the new reviewers that I've had.

By the way, The Fic Lord? What is your obsession with NWO?

Oh yeah, and in response to the comments that there is the whole Gaz in trouble/Dib makes good decision and saves her/ passes test pattern…that kinda ends with this chapter. These first few tests have been focusing on his relationship with her. The next ones will deal with the way he relates to Zim and himself. Though the pattern of life or death situations will continue for the most part, if only because that's where a split second decision makes all the difference, which is the nature of the Tests—to test his first response, because that is the Truest.

Hey, Dibsthe1—satisfied?

But I'm gonna stop rambling here, and post this so I can jump in the shower and get ready for my show, tonight. (Wish me luck! )

As usual, R and R, people. It makes all this brain vomit worth it.

-j

Ps.—159 pages, now. Holy crap.


	6. Dream

A/n: Holy. Crap. Guys. You all amaze me. I got SIX reviews all within mere HOURS of posting the last chapter. You are all amazing. Every single one of you. Thank you all sososososo much. You all made me grin like a freaking maniac.

DibMagician: Thank you for mentioning that the ending of the last chapter sounded familiar. After discussions with Dibsthe1, she pointed out that the fic you were talking about was "Dib Snaps" (right?), which I then read, and yeah…wow. That is very much the same thing. Oops. I find it amusing that such things happen when I hadn't read that fic before last night.

So, to Drago, who wrote "Dib Snaps", if you're reading this…sorry, man. I didn't mean to hijack your ending, like I said, I hadn't read your fic at all before writing this. So if you were to get mad about it, please don't, cos it's just a case of Great Minds, or something.

And thank you, again, everyone, for leaving Detailed reviews. Seeing people take the time to say more than "that was good, plz update soon!" makes me smile.

References: Heh…this is funny, cos, when I posted the ending A/n in the last chapter, I had only skimmed through the chapter to find any references and only really noticed/remembered the one that I had to look up. Turns out, as you guys were awesome enough to point out…I had at least two others in there that I kinda forgot about. Oops. So. Here we go…

-Mr. Prickley, the principal. Who is he? The principal from the cartoon Recess.

-"That blood isn't your, is it?" "Not all of it." …Go Dibsthe1! Yea Fight Club!

-Mentioning separating Zim from the Collective… yes, Coco Tapioca, that was all about the Borg. Nice to know someone else is a Star Trek nerd.

In other news, this is a Breather chapter. No Test, here, folks, just some plot development and….EXPOSITION! AHHH! (Explodes)

Enjoy.

Ps—Leftover Sweet and Sour chicken tastes surprisingly good with Pasta Sauce. Imagine that.

DISCLAIMER: I own not this wonderful creation that is IZ. Seňor Vasquez does, as he watches and laughs at us from his Space Station high above the earth. Yup.

You Only Live Twice

PART SIX: In which, Dib has a dream.

_Main Entry: **dream** _

_Pronunciation: __'drEm__  
Function: noun  
Usage: often attributive  
Etymology: Middle English dreem, from Old English drEam noise, joy, and Old Norse draumr dream; akin to Old High German troum dream  
**1** a series of thoughts, images, or emotions occurring during sleep - compare REM SLEEP  
**2** an experience of waking life having the characteristics of a dream: as **a** a visionary creation of the imagination **: DAYDREAM** **b** a state of mind marked by abstraction or release from reality **: REVERIE** **c** an object seen in a dreamlike state **: VISION**  
**3** something notable for its beauty, excellence, or enjoyable quality the new car is a dream to operate  
**4 a** a strongly desired goal or purpose a dream of becoming president **b** something that fully satisfies a wish **: IDEAL** a meal that was a gourmet's dream _

I awoke to with a now familiar groggy disorientation, my head cushioned in my arms that lay curled on the surface of a school desk. The room I was in was dark, aside from the small cone of light from a lamp that sat on a desk in the front of the room. Two shadowed figures sat on the desk, their heads close together in conversation.

"I'm trusting you to make sure everything goes alright with him." One of the figures, obviously male, stated.

"Relax, will ya? This isn't my first assignment, you know." The female figure answered.

"I know, but…you're still training, Erin. And—"

"And nothing. You're worried because the kid is one of _yours_, right? You're feeling that instinctual protective urge that Our Creator doesn't seem to have, right? Don't let it cloud your judgment, J. The boss is already a little irked at the way you've been handling this case. You know just as well as I do what is in store for him, and why he has to go through this all."

The male figure turned away, slightly, and pulled one long leg up to his chest so that he could rest his arms on his knee, "I know."

The female figure sighed. Reaching out, she took the man's chin in her hand and turned his head gently back to face her. "Whatever doesn't kill him, J, you know? How is he supposed to reach his potential if you're picking him up every time he trips?"

"The point is, Erin, that if he trips _here_, all is lost."

"I know that," she removed her hand from his face and ran it over her hair, "believe me, I know that. However, I also know that if he _were_ to trip up here…it wouldn't have mattered in the first place because he was damned from the start." She looked back up at the man, and he turned his head away. She sighed, again. "Look, there's no use being grumpy over it. You know just as well as I do that you wouldn't have had jurisdiction over the next three Tests, anyhow—they have completely different energy. You're lucky that I insisted that they send me instead of someone fully trained. If they hadn't listened to me, you wouldn't be allowed to be here, at all, under the guise of training me. They would have sent in someone else and that would be that. You wouldn't even be here to support him."

He turned back towards her, "I know, and I'm grateful, I really am, but I still just can't help but be worried. "

"Well there's no more time for that, because he's awake and has been listening to every word we've said."

Oops. I took this opportunity to fully raise my head from the desk and give a little wave. The male figure—J—sighed and hopped down from the desk, walking to the wall and flicking on the lights. I flinched and shielded my eyes from the sudden brightness.

When I brought my hand away, J was sitting backwards on the top of the desk in front of me, a tired look on his face.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that, kid?" He asked with a weary smile.

I gave him a confused look, "But aren't you already dead?"

The man rolled his eyes and propelled himself from the desk, throwing his hands in the air and mumbling something about the world's stupidity and what the hell are they teaching kids nowadays. Since he had moved, I noticed that Erin was still sitting on the teacher's desk at the front of the room, a bemused smirk on her lips. I felt my eyes grow wide at her new appearance. She had traded her waitress uniform for a white blouse and black pleated skit that came a little above her knees. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and her eyes smiled behind her glasses as she twirled a pointer in between her fingers.

Seeing my hormone induced dazed expression and the fact that I couldn't seem to raise my gaze from her legs, she smirked and called over to J, who was still pacing and mumbling incoherently, "Hey, it looks like we have a Van Halen fan on our hands."

"The song's 'Hot For Teacher', not 'Hot for Librarian'," he answered, not ceasing his rampage.

An irritated scowl formed on her face, "I don't look like a librarian." she stated, aggravation evident in her voice, then, catching herself, she shook her head and slid from the desk top, making her way over to me. I still couldn't keep my eyes off of her legs as she sat on the desk in front of me the way that J had been. She sighed and leaned forward, taking my chin in her hand and tipping my head up. "Hey, up here, kid."

In all honesty, that didn't help. The first three buttons of her blouse were undone. I was at war with myself, as I sat there, transfixed and round eyed. She sighed and threw her hands up much the way J had done, and, jumping from the desk, began to storm towards the exit of the room.

"That's it, screw it, I'm changing." she stated. J stopped her with her hand on the doorknob by grabbing her arm.

"There's no time for that, let's just get this over with. Now you know for next time not to try and be all cute around pubescent males."

"Well ExCUSE me for tying to get in the spirit of things."

"'Spirit of things'? This is a Divine Test, not some fluffy holiday! We need to be focused!"

"Says the man who just threw a temper tantrum because the kid has a predisposed notion that we're Dead!"

"Hey, you know those cut and dry religious views they teach drive me crazy!"

This was really starting to get ridiculous. I cleared my throat trying to get their attention. When that didn't work, I managed a hesitant, "Excuse me?"

They ignored me, either not hearing or being so wrapped up in their argument that they didn't notice.

"Still, that's no reason to be all pissed off about losing focus, now."

"Excuse me."

"Well maybe, if you weren't dressed like a fetish stripper—"

"Excuse me!"

"FETISH STRIPPER!"

I was growing more and more annoyed. Realizing that being polite just wasn't going to cut it, I climbed on my desk and shouted, "Hey! Old Dudes!"

Both adults stopped bickering immediately at turned their heads to face me, shocked expressions on their faces.

"As much fun as it is to watch you two argue like a married couple, I kinda would like to know what the hell is going on? Where am I, you know, that sort of thing?"

Seeing that I had made my point, I gave a curt little nod and sat down, crossing my hands on my desk in perfect patient attention. J and Erin looked at each other and sighed, shaking their heads before turning and walking back over to the main part of the room. J sat backwards on the desk diagonally in front of me, and Erin hopped back up onto the teacher's desk and began, once again, twirling the pointer.

"Alright, kid," J began, pushing his oval glasses up onto his nose, "shoot. What do you want to know?"

"Umm…how about where I am? Am I still in limbo? Are the tests over? Am I in hell, now? What's going on?"

Erin shot an exasperated look at J, "You mean you didn't give him his memories, yet?"

J took in a deep breath and looked at the ceiling as if praying for divine patience, "I'm sorry, but I've been a _little _preoccupied. Besides, _you're_ the one in charge, now, right? Why didn't you do it?"

"Because I thought _you_ already _had._" Erin shot back, loosening her bun and shaking her head so that her hair fell around her shoulders. Running her hand through her brown locks, she let out an exasperated sigh and raised her hand. She paused, slightly, and looked at me, a bothered expression on her face, "I'd brace myself it I were you, kid, this is gonna hurt a bit."

I raised my eyebrow at her, responding hesitantly, "Umm…ok…but I mean, how bad could it be?"

I had barely gotten the sentence out before Erin made a flicking gesture with her hand and my head was enveloped in white hot agony. I fell out of the desk and to the ground, gripping the sides of my head as if keeping it from exploding. There was a scream filling the air and I briefly registered that it was my own. Hands were gripping my shoulders, arms tight around my back as images flashed before my eyes: my father's lawyer, Zim's angry face, Gaz's sweat soaked hair, Zita's smooth, naked body, Gaz's betrayed expression, Zim's sad salute, blood pouring out of Torque's stomach, out of Gaz's forehead, a knife tight in my grip. I felt my stomach start to rebel, and as I fumbled to stand to reach the trash can, it was placed in front of me to dry heave over. My mouth tasted of copper pennies as I spit blood on top of the crumpled papers that lined the bottom of the basket.

As the pain resided to a dull ache, and I sat back off of my heels, my body shaking from the force of my dry heaves, I noticed, still, the feeling of hands and arms around me. Looking up, my eyes caught the identical worried expressions on J and Erin's faces, as they both held on to me, supporting me through the pain. The fact that whatever their annoyance with each other at the moment was completely discarded to take care of me made an unfamiliar warmness curl in the pit of my stomach. Whatever the feeling was, it was enough for me to smile, weakly at them as I coughed one last time.

"I'm ok," I assured them, "It's alright, I'm fine now."

The adults glanced sideways at each other and then back to me, and then, standing, each took one of my arms and helped me back into my seat. J handed me back my glasses, which must have fallen off during my seizure, and Erin smoothed back my hair, fussing over me like a parent. I smiled at them both, again, and then shook them off. I wasn't used to such attention. It kind of bothered me.

"Really, it's fine. I'm alright, now." I reassured them. Both of them glanced, again, to each other and then shrugged, moving back to their respective seats.

Both were silent as I chewed on the side of my index finger, contemplating my new memories.

"So what happens next?" I finally asked, taking the finger from my mouth.

Erin glanced at J, and then asked, "Are you sure you don't want to discuss what's happened so far?"

"No." I answered, a little too harshly, "I want to know what happens next."

J met Erin's questioning eyes and shook his head, almost imperceptivity. He turned back towards me and sighed, running his hand through his too-red hair. "Alright, here's the situation. Like I told you at the end of the last Test, I'm not going to be your Guide, anymore. I can't. The next few tests have a different energy."

"What do you mean, 'different energy'?"

"Everything created has both Male and Female aspects," Erin began from her perch on the teacher's desk, "Yin and Yang, Positive and Negative, etc. The Sins are no different. There are Male aspect Sins, which you've already been tested on, being Greed, Gluttony, and Wrath; and then there are Female aspect sins—Pride, Envy, and Lust. That's why I'm here."

"But that's only six Sins. What about Sloth?"

"Sloth is…hard to explain," J took up the narration, after a pleading look from Erin, "Sloth is the balance point—the place where the Male and the Female meet, the Androgynous energy, you could say."

"So…who's going to Guide me through that one?"

J and Erin exchanged another glace.

"Neither of us," Erin finally answered, "You're going to be on your own for that one. It's the Final Test. It's also the hardest. Most people…most people don't pass."

I was flabbergasted. "You mean that I have to go through the hardest Test _alone_? You guys are just going to _abandon_ me?"

"It's not like it's our choice, you know?" J stated, emotion making his voice hard, "It's just the rules. We can't help it."

Silence descended, once again. Erin picked nervously at a string on her skirt.

"You had said before that it was easy to tell that I was "one of J's", and then I just overheard you saying it again just a few minutes, ago. What is that all about? What does that mean?"

J shrugged, "It means exactly what it sounds like. You're one of mine. I created you."

That didn't make me any less confused, "You _created _me? So, does that make you God?"

J shook his head, "No, it makes me a Creator."

"I don't understand."

"When God created the Universe, he created with it two people—Adam and Eve, right? He gave them the basic rundown about the Tree of Wisdom and the whole naming the animals thing and then he went and decided that he deserved a little nap. He's stayed in that mindset ever since, except for the random moment when the people on Earth do something to Really piss him off. Now, in order to populate the planet, Adam and Eve had to become Creators, themselves, and biologically produced Cain and Abel, who produced offspring of their own, or produced other people, etc. So far, so good. Humans had the whole Biological Creation thing down. However, one day, someone realized that they could also create Intellectually. That they could dream and imagine and whole new people-whole new _worlds_ would come to be."

"And I'm your Intellectual Creation?"

"Exactly. You, your sister, Zim, your father, your school—all of it exist because of my dreams, because of my imagination."

The silence returned as I digested this new information. I turned to Erin, who had been silent throughout J's speech.

"And what about you? Where do you fit into all of this? What do you have to do with me?"

She shrugged, "I'm just an Author."

I raised my eyebrow at her, "I thought you were a waitress."

She rolled her eyes, "I have to pay for training _somehow_."

"Training?"

"It takes lots of practice to become a successful Creator. One can train for years and years and never fully be proficient at it. That's why, from time to time, Creators will lend their Dreams to the Training class. We borrow their Creations—their characters-using them to hone our skills so that we may one day reach their level."

"So you're using _my_ life to learn a _trade_?" I asked, deadpan, even though I know that my eyes were blazing with indignation, "I'm only a _dream_ to you? Everything that I know, everything that I care about…it's not real?

I rose to my feel, pacing down the aisle, the weight of this new revelation propelling me onwards.

"That isn't what we mean," J's voice said from behind me.

I turned towards him, my trench coat swirling around my feet, "And what do you mean, then? Huh? What are you really trying to get at? If I'm not real—if I'm just some character that you vomited from your head, what does it all matter? Why do I have to go through these stupid Tests? What's the point?"

"You act as though we're different from you." Erin stated, sliding from the desktop, "We're not, you know. We're Dreams as well. We play our parts, we go through the motions of our lives, but in the grand scheme of things, we're nothing more than a passing thought. But that doesn't make us any less Real; any less important. You and your world are as real as you make it. You can take this information and give in to it, letting it beat you down with apathy, causing yourself and everyone you care for to fade away, or you can accept it, and push forward in spite of it." She stood in front of me, her brown eyes determined behind the lenses of her glasses, "The decision is up to you. Give up if you want, prove that you're nothing but a dream and cause us to wake up and forget you. If you're that weak we have no use for you."

That said, she turned on her heel and strode from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. I glanced to J, who had stayed silent throughout his acolyte's speech. The man looked toward the floor as he unfolded himself from the desk and stood. He started to move toward the door and then stopped, turning towards me.

"You need some time to think and rest. We'll wait outside for your decision. You don't have to keep going if you don't want to. You know the truth, now, you have control over your own destiny. I will say this, though—if you choose to allow yourself to fade, your entire world will become changed. You are destined for great things, Dib. But Erin was right when she said that we can't use someone's who will and soul is weak. This is just as much of a Test as the Sins are. Your decision here will mean everything."

That said, he laid a fatherly hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and then walked from the room. I could still feel the warmth from his hand as he shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

-

I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the closed door before I realized that they weren't going to come back in. They were true to their words when they said that they would await my decision—that they wouldn't push me. However, I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that time was short, and that I needed to make my decision soon, or I wouldn't be making any more for all of eternity.

Forcing myself to move, I walked the perimeter of the room, taking in my surroundings. This was an exact replica of my old sixth grade classroom, complete with a wormy apple on what would have been Miss Bitters' desk. I ran my fingers along the smooth wood of my classmates' desks as I walked, silently stating in my mind who used to sit where. When I reached the front desk that was closest to the window I paused, running my fingers over letters carved into the wood—deep, angry scratches caused by the sharp end of a compass: _"Big heded freek! Go home!"_

I sighed and closed my eyes at the memory of the first day I had laid eyes on those words. I had just come back from lunch and they were there, staring at me, taunting me. To this day, I still didn't know who the real culprit had been—only that I had been the one punished for it, and made to pay for the desk. No amount of arguing or logic could convince Miss Bitters nor the principal that there was no way that I would call _myself_ a "big heded freek" (the fact that I could spell a hell of a lot better than that by the fourth grade aside). It was_ my_ desk, after all—who else could have done it?

I shook my head to allow the memory to escape and made my way over closer to the door, still silently naming the children who had once sat behind the desks beneath my fingers. Reaching the one closet to the door, I sighed, and folded myself into the miniature chair as much as possible. This had been _his_ seat. My alien. The proof of either my credibility or my inherent insanity, depending on who you talked to. (Though the only person you would get the former opinion from would be myself). I had often wondered what he thought about when he sat in this chair—how his mind worked, how it would feel to be completely displaced from everything that was familiar.

I thought about how, within the Tests, he and I were friends; whether the bond be hesitant or deep, it was still there. It was still more than I had in my own Reality. What detail had been changed in the Realties I had faced that made things different? What happened so that we both had put aside our differences and come to terms with each other? I faintly remembered something about his leaders…a message informing him that his mission was a joke; a fallacy; a farce. I briefly wondered if this were the case in my Universe, as well, and if it were, whether or not I should mention it to him when I got back.

When I got back. It seemed that, at least on a subconscious level I had made my decision, but still I wasn't sure. What did it matter, in the long run, what I did or didn't do if my entire world was nothing more than a Dream?

"_All we see or seem is but a Dream within a Dream"_ A line from a poem that I had been forced to read in the ninth grade floated to the front of my mind. Something in me was warmed by the memory. Mr. Poe had Gotten it. He had been both a Dream and a Creator, and he had fully understood what higher plan was at work within his world. I wondered whether or not he had once been in my place—if, within one of his alcohol induced slumbers, he had undergone the Tests that I was now enduring. Remembering, however, that he had died young, it didn't seem too likely to me that he had passed them all. I felt a slight twinge of emotion rise within me as I allowed myself a moment to contemplate his Fate.

How many before me had undergone this challenge? How many had been "destined for great things" as J said I was, but failed to meet the mark? How many's souls were strong enough to make it through to the other? J had explained before that if the wrong decision were made, I would simply stay in whatever Reality I was in until my body expired before being sent to Hell. I wondered if that really would be that bad. Despite the horrible person that I had been in each of the Tests I had undergone so far, I remembered being pretty happy. There, I had everything—respect, money—even in the last Test, where my life seemed to be in shambles I would have had Power over my enemies. I would have been able to take my life in my own hands; to finally have control.

I sighed and laid my head in my arms on the desk, closing my eyes.

"_Zim, what are you still doing here?"_

I shot up in the seat, my eyes open, looking wildly around the room. That had been my sister's voice! Talking to Zim! But how had I heard them? For a split second, behind my eyelids, I thought I had seen the shadows of the hospital room that my body was in. Did I somehow just witness a moment of the Waking World?

Determined to pick the signal back up, I laid my head back down exactly as before, this time removing my glasses and setting them beside me before closing my eyes.

"_What does it matter to you, Human?" Zim asked, suspicion in his voice, not looking up from the strange contraption that he was fiddling with. _

"_You look like shit, you should go home and get some sleep." Gaz stated, walking further into the room._

"_SLEEP? A member of the Great Irken Elite needs no SLEEP!" He shouted shaking one fist in the air, eyes still glued to the metal box in his hands._

_Gaz sighed and sat in the chair next to Zim, peering over his shoulder, "What is that thing, anyhow?"_

"_It is a device far too advanced for your PRIMITIVE Stink-Beast mind to comprehend. Something that I shall use to bring DOOM upon your race!"_

"_It's a video game." Gaz stated, her eyes growing wide in interest. _

"_A video game of DOOM!" _

_Gaz turned her face, slightly, so that she could look at him, "You're an idiot." She replied, simply, and then slid from her chair, approaching the bed where my body lie, her eyes trained on my face, relaxed in mock-sleep._

_Reaching out with one pale hand, she poked my cheek a few times, as if trying to annoy my comatose body into waking. Sighing from the lack of response, she turned and focused on the nightstand beside the bed. Slowly, as if in a daze, she picked up my glasses, unfolding them and turning them over in her hands again and again. Suddenly, her body stiffened and she growled menacingly under her breath, the growl rising into an anger filled scream as she spun and threw my glasses as hard as she could towards the wall, shattering them against the dingy concrete. _

_Zim, startled by her outburst, jumped to his feet, alien video game forgotten. "You stupid human, what did you do THAT for! The Dib is going to need his ocular correction device when he awakens!"_

_Gaz turned on him, her amber eyes glowing with rage, "He isn't going to 'awaken', you moron!" She shouted, her voice thick with emotion, "It's been a month and he hasn't even moved a stupid muscle! Those machines are the only things keeping him alive, right now!"_

"_What is your point? The entirety of the Great Irken Race is kept alive by machines. You should be GREATFUL that the Dib has become so advanced."_

_Gaz looked like she was about to hit him, and her entire body shook with the effort it took to hold back the urge. How strange it was to see her expressing this sort of emotion _for _me instead of having it focusing _on_ me._

"_You don't seem to understand what I'm getting at, here." she explained through clenched teeth, "That…person," She threw her arm out, pointing to my body on the bed, "is not Dib. Dib isn't in there." She retracted her arm, pulling to close to her side, "The only thing keeping my brother's body alive is those machines. If they were to be turned off, his body would die, and then that would be it. Which is exactly what is going to _happen_ thanks to my fucking FATHER!" She screamed the last word, the force of it seeming to shake the glass in the steel reinforced windows._

"_What are you babbling about, Female. Your parental unit wouldn't detach his offspring from the only thing keeping his FILTHY body functional." Zim stated, his mouth frowning. Pausing for a moment, he furrowed his brow in thought, "Uh…right?"_

"_You would think that, wouldn't you?" Gaz asked, rhetorically, beginning to pace the room like a caged lion, kicking at anything that was in her path, "But _no_. After three months, the possibility of severe brain damage becomes even higher. Even if he woke up, he would be a vegetable. And _God Forbid _the_ 'Great Professor Membrane' _have a _Vegetable _for a _son!_" With her last sentence, she had picked up a small vase of flowers and hurled it into a corner where it shattered, spraying water on Gir who had been curled up, unnoticed, sleeping on a pillow. The android sat up in his doggy suit and looked around, rubbing at his stuffed eyes. _

"_I heard a crash, Master!" He stated. Spotting Gaz he seemed to perk up a bit, coming full awake, "Awww, why the purple haired girl look all mad? She needs a huuuug!"_

_Gaz focused her iron gaze on Gir, who had jumped to his feet to make his way to her, but stopped dead, cringing back at the anger in her eyes, "Um…or maybe I just play with piggy." he amended, pulling off the hood of his costume and busying himself with the pink rubber pig that had shot out of his thermos like head._

_Gaz sighed and pressed the heel of her palm hard against her forehead closing her eyes. I could tell that she was trying to get her thoughts in order, to find a way to express herself that _wouldn't_ involve dismemberment. _

"_I thought that your father was trying to find a way to cure the Dib-worm," Zim stated, caution in his voice. I had never heard him sound actually frightened of someone, but then, my sister had that effect on people._

"_My father is a phony, Zim." Gaz replied, a little calmer. She opened her eyes and ran the hand that had been pressed against her forehead through her hair, "He's famous for Super Toast. Wowee. I still can't even tell what the difference is between that and normal toast. He isn't some great scientist, Zim, he's a fraud."_

_She moved towards the end of my bed, and sat down, heavily, as if restraining her anger had taken all of the energy out of her._

"_But…but what about the PEG machine, and the nano-robot?"_

_Gaz laughed, bitterly, "Oh, he comes up with some great ideas, sure, and some of them work, but for the most part, he just tweaks blueprints and things that he somehow gets his hands on and makes them his own. And the world loves him for it." she shook her head, "I don't get it."_

_There was a moment of tense silence as Zim digested this new information. He cleared his throat, then._

"_So…if the Dib doesn't wake up within the next two of your Earth Months, your father will deactivate him?" He breached._

_My sister nodded, her face cradled in her hands, her eyes finding something extremely interesting on the toes of her combat boots.._

"_What do we do until then?"_

_Her eyes rose to meet his, amber to violet, and she gave a little shrug, "Pray."_

My eyes snapped open, my breath caught in my throat. I had fallen asleep or something, I must have. It was a dream. There was no way that Dad would pull the plug on me, no way. I mean, he's my father, right? He loves me! He would do anything that it took to make sure that I was ok!

Realizing the absurdity of that last train of thought, considering what I knew of my father, I was on my feet in an instant, running out the door as quickly as I could. I needed to find J and Erin and I needed to find them _now_.

-

I ran through the empty hallways searching frantically for the two Guides. My inherent and instinctual paranoia whispered that they probably had just given up and left me, here, disgusted by my lack of progress. J had said that this was another type of Test—perhaps by taking so long to answer them I had failed and was now doomed to spend the rest of the time until my father euthanized me wandering these empty halls. The thought made me stop in my tracks, shaking my head violently to rid it from my brain. Erin and J had acted like they cared about me. They really wanted me to succeed. They wouldn't just leave me here. They wouldn't just—

"_And what makes you so sure, hmm? How much do you _really_ know them? How can you be so sure that you can trust them?"_ a raspy voice whispered. The voice was familiar, though I couldn't exactly place where from.

"Cos…cos why shouldn't I? They're the only people who have ever treated me with respect. Why shouldn't I believe them?"

"_And you haven't thought that there was a _catch_ to their _respect_?"_ the voice hissed, amused, _"You fool. You haven't thought that maybe they have a higher use for you? That they, perhaps, need you for something?"_

"_**If you're that weak we have no use for you."**_

"_**You are destined for great things, Dib. But…we can't use someone's who will and soul is weak."**_

Fragments of Erin and J's speeches wafted through the front of my mind. Both of them had said that they wouldn't be able to 'use' me if I failed this Test. Use me for what? J had mentioned my destination for 'great things', but did that necessarily mean that those 'great things' would be in my favor? What if they _were_ only using me for their own means? What if…

"No." I stated, shaking my head, my hands gripping my hair, "No, stop putting doubts into my mind. I need to trust these people! I need to—"

"—Dib?" Erin's voice interrupted my little tirade and I jerked my head up to face the sound, hands still buried in my hair. She and J had just turned the corner of the hallway, and were looking at me with shocked and worried expressions on their faces. J was holding a plastic bag with Chinese characters written on the side, and Erin had a two liter bottle of soda cradled in her arms,

"Dib, are you alright?" J asked, his brow furrowed. He held up the bag, "We thought that you might be hungry, so we ordered some Chinese. What's going on?" His questions seemed to break whatever spell I was under, and I ran down the rest of the hall to them, relieved tears threatening behind my eyes. When I reached them, I gripped J hard by the shoulders, almost knocking the bag from his hands.

"I was—I need to—There was this dream—I saw—and then a voice—" I couldn't complete a full thought, my mind was working a mile a minute, my mouth unable to keep up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Erin look worriedly at J before setting the bottle of soda down and, reaching out to grab my shoulder the same was I was holding on to J's, turned me to face her.

"Calm down, Dib, what happened? Breath for a minute. It's alright."

"No, it's not alright!" I shouted, knocking her hand away. He eyes reflected a twinge of hurt, but I didn't care at the moment. I focused my attention back to J, who was still looking at me with a confused frown on his tanned face, "I was in the classroom. I laid my head down on Zim's desk and must have fallen asleep or something, because I had this dream, except it didn't feel like a dream, it felt _real_ and Gaz and Zim were talking and if I don't get back to my body within the next two months my dad is going to pull the plug! I need to take the next Test, NOW!"

J's face registered shock for a moment and then broke into an angry scowl. He pushed himself away from me, throwing the bag to the ground, causing the contents of the small take out boxes to explode everywhere. The ground was covered in noodles and the small of Lo-mein filled the air.

"Damn it!" He swore, turning and kicking one of the lockers with his steel toed combat boot.

"You're father is going to…pull the plug on you?" Erin whispered, her face growing pale, accentuating the tired shadows beneath her eyes, "But that's horrible…" She trailed off and turned to J, who was still giving the locker what-for, "He…he can't do that, right? I mean, I know that we had limited time, but he wouldn't kill his own _son_ would he?"

"Oh he would and he will." J answered, his anger finally spent. He allowed himself to lean against the locker, his forehead pressed against its cool metal surface, "His sense of Pride is his greatest asset. After three months, Dib would basically be a vegetable. Membrane would never stand for that. He would rather have no son at all than deal with the 'embarrassment' of having one that is handicapped."

"That's what Gaz said." I whispered.

A tense silence filled the hallway, neither of us being able to form words to express what was happening. It was finally broken by J once again kicking at the locker, which had acquired a rather nice sized dent within the last few minutes.

"Fuck!" he swore, "I should have seen this coming, I should have been prepared!"

"It's not your fault," Erin stated, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook her off. Her eyes again looked hurt. I wondered, briefly, if that was the look I got whenever Gaz brushed me off when I tried to comfort her. Her eyes grew hard then, "Well it's not!" She repeated, anger rising in her voice, "How were you supposed to know that Membrane was that much of an asshat?"

"I just should have!" her companion exclaimed, turning quickly to face us, "He's _my_ creation! He's _my_ Dream! I shouldn't be able to be caught off guard like this! I should know his every move "

"Like you were expected to know Nny's every move?" Erin countered.

Nny?

"When we give these Dreams life, we give them wills of their own," she continued, "There was no way for you to predict that Nny would falter during the Wrath test, then, and there was no way for you to predict that Membrane would want to go all Kevorkian on Dib, now! Just let it go, alright! You blaming yourself isn't going to make anything better!"

Nny? Wrath test? Had one of J's other Creations been on the same path as me? Was I not the first of his Dreams to go through the tests?

"Who's Nny?" I asked, hesitantly.

Both heads turned towards me, seemingly startled. J sighed and ran a hand though his hair, "Nny was…Nny was my first Dream. He had an accident, much like you did, and was chosen to take the Tests. I was given the assignment to Guide him, but…I was right out of Training. I wasn't able to help him. When I Created him, I had made him too flawed, ad he gave into the temptation of Wrath, damning himself to go through eternity as a Waste Lock, continually dying and being reborn, being vomited from both the Heaven and Hell of that Reality, because nothing would accept him."

Waste Lock. That was familiar. The whispering voice itched at the back of my mind, but I ignored it.

"I failed him." J was continuing, his voice a forlorn whisper. Then he looked up at me, his eyes filled with new resolve, "But I'm not going to fail you. Don't worry, we're going to get you through these tests. You're going to pass, and you're going to do it within the two month deadline."

I was filled with a sense of pride at J's faith in me. Thinking back, I wondered if anyone ever had expressed such views. I came up with nothing.

"What I want to know is," Erin's voice rang out, startling me from my thoughts, "how does Dib even know this? How was he able to see what is going on in the Waking World?"

J turned towards Erin, "You haven't reached that part in your studies, yet, have you?" His question was met by a blank, 'If I had, do you think I would be asking you about it?' stare. "If the Soul's will is strong enough, it can make slight contact with the world outside of the Tests. Dib said that he had been sitting at Zim's desk at the time. He thoughts, then, were ultimately on his friend—"

"He's not my friend." I protested, automatically. Both adults glanced at me out of the corner of their eyes, but said nothing.

"—his thoughts were on Zim," J continued, still giving me a slightly annoyed glare, "therefore, he when he relaxed his mind he was able to make contact, however brief it might have been. Dib described it like a dream, which means that he was simply able to watch what was going on, not interact with it, right?" The last statement was addressed towards me, and I nodded, "Some Souls are able to speak with and, in rare cases, even take over the person they are thinking of, but that is _extremely_ rare. Most of the time the contact comes in the form of a dream or a vision."

"Is there any way that he could be _wrong_?" Erin asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

J shook his head, "No. If Dib saw his sister and Zim talking about Membrane pulling the plug, than that's what is going to happen. Which means we need to get to move and we need to move, now." He turned back to me, taking my shoulders again in his father like grip, "Like I told you before, Erin is going to be Guiding you, now. I can't have anything to actively do with these next few Tests, but I'll still be here keeping an eye on things, alright?" I nodded, unable to express my emotion or gratitude for this man who had so much faith in me.

He stared into my eyes for a few moments more, as if searching for something, and then nodded, releasing me. Taking a few steps backwards, he nodded to Erin who walked slowly towards me.

She wrapped her arms around me in a hug, holding me tightly, "Don't worry, kid," she whispered in my ear, "you'll get though this. We won't let you get lost." I nodded, feeling her hair against my face. She pulled back, turning her head, slightly and giving me a quick peck on the cheek. Letting me go completely, then, she took a step back and raised her hand, poised to snap. Our eyes locked and I nodded again, gulping to try and swallow the lump that had risen in my throat.

"God speed, kid." She whispered, and then snapped.

As my word fell into a familiar blackness, I heard the sound of laughing at from the corners of my mind.

"_God has nothing to do with this."_ The voice stated.

I opened my mouth and screamed.

-

Wowee. So that was fun. My apologies if this wasn't as exciting as the Test chapters, but after the emotional…stuff…of the last few chapters, a breather was necessary, at least for me. The next chapter will be your regularly scheduled Test, full of wonderful angst (heh, as if this chapter wasn't angstful as all get out) and drama and dancing bears. Ok, so maybe not dancing bears, but you get the idea.

A great big Thank you to Dibsthe1 for beta reading this and letting me know whether or not I had Too Much Exposition and to all my wonderful, wonderful reviewers. At this moment I have 50 reviews! WOW! That's amazing to me. Tallest Red has the honour of being my 50th reviewer. YAY TALLEST RED!

References? Damn this thing was chock full of them. At last count, I'm going for four, but like what happened on the last chapter, I could be wrong. If you see anything else, feel free to point them out. :)

To everyone who's foaming at the mouth, wanting to kill me for putting Dib through so much stuff…I have a reason for it. I hinted a bit at it in this chapter, and it will all be explained further down the line…if not in story than at least in my final A/n. Tho I'm hoping I can figure out how to explain it in-story.

I'm amused at the reaction to the mention that there will be slash elements further down the line…some of you are begging for hot alien on human action and others are on your knees pleading the exact opposite. While I'm not going to change my basic plot ideas in any way, I'm going to repeat this, again—any slash will be only hinted at. There will be nothing graphic, aside from, perhaps, a stolen kiss that will be in entirely realistic given the situation I have in my mind. No hot, hot sexxings, sorry to disappoint. If even that little of a slash element will be too much for anyone, well…I'm sorry. I'm going to put up a warning before that chapter, so if it really would bother anyone that much, you can just skip over it and wait for the next update. I hope, however, that I don't lose anyone's readership over it. That would make me a sad, sad, Jennamonster.

Anyhow, man I love to ramble. Almost as much as I love pixi stix and man…I love me some pixi stix (who the hell came up with that concept anyhow…who was like "Man, you know what we need to give kids? Pure Flavoured Sugar! YEAH!" :)

R and R people. I was able to make good on my week promise this time, lets see if you guys can have my email remind me to do it again. :)

-j


	7. Game

A/n: So…here we are, again, kids. Another chapter of YOLT, full of angsty and pseudo philosophical goodness—part of your balanced breakfast or something.

Ended up getting more reviews than I thought I would on that last chapter. Thanks, guys! Really. Means the world to me. I thought that reviews would be lax, considering there wasn't any action in it at all.

As I write this note (which is before I've started the chapter) I'm up to 190 pages. This is the single longest thing I've ever written and it's just getting longer and longer…NaNoWriMo (or National Novel Writing Month, which is every November) states that in order to "win" their contest you should have written 175 pages or 50, 000 words. Maybe this November, I'll actually be able to do it, considering every other year I've been intimidated by that much writing. (For those of you who don't know, NaNoWriMo is a "contest" where you write a novel in a month. There isn't a prize, really, that I know about, aside from personal satisfaction, but those I know who've done it all say that it's a great experience. The site is www(dot)NaNoWriMo(dot)org if anyone is interested.)

References!

-"Looks like we've got a Van Halen fan on our hands" "The song is 'Hot For Teacher" not "Hot For Librarian": This one was explained (which I did as an afterthought, cos I doubted that anyone reading this would listen to Van Halen to get the reference), but is, in fact a reference to the song "Hot For Teacher" by Van Halen. Go. Download. Now.

-"Hey, Old Dudes!": Defiantly a reference to "Men In Black" (how fitting!). The part where Tommy Lee Jones and the other guy are arguing cos the worlds going to be destroyed and Will Smith notices the mural of the "spaceships" at the Worlds Fair and wants to know if they still work.

-"Well exCUSE me for wanting to be in the spirit of things!" Ok. This didn't work as well, because I couldn't figure out a way to add the "Princess" in there, considering it was Erin talking to J and not the other way around. In my head, however, the "Princess" was there, which makes it a reference to the old "Zelda" cartoon. Link would always say that to Zelda—at least once an episode—"well exCUSE me, Princess". I got into many a playground fight because the boys in my first grade class, or however old I was, decided to adopt this phrase and it drove me Nuts.

-Dib has carved into his desk the words "Big Heded Freak! Go home!": This is a reference to the first (and I guess the third, now that I think about it) Silent Hill games. At the end of the games, in the Nowhere world, you find a desk that is separated from the others that has the words "Go Home. Thief. Drop Dead." carved into the surface.

Yeah, yeah babble, babble, ramble, ramble. I'm going to say this now, but the plot of this Test isn't very unique. At least not to me. The basis of it has been done before (but then, so had Dib going insane like I did in the Blood Chapter…). Read on, and you'll see what I mean, but I just thought that it was fitting for the Sin.

DISCLAIMER: Has anyone noticed how it gets progressively harder to come up with cute and funny disclaimers? I'm just gonna say it straight out: I don't own IZ.

You Only Live Twice.

PART SEVEN: In which Dib wins the game.

_Main Entry: **1pride**  
Pronunciation: 'prId  
Function: noun  
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English pryde, from prud proud - more at PROUD  
**1** the quality or state of being proud: as **a** inordinate self-esteem **: CONCEIT** **b** a reasonable or justifiable self-respect **c** delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship parental pride  
**2** proud or disdainful behavior or treatment **: DISDAIN**  
**3 a** ostentatious display **b** highest pitch **: PRIME**  
**4** a source of pride the best in a group or class  
**5** a company of lions  
**6** a showy or impressive group a pride of dancers_

In the end, he didn't even have the decency to struggle. He just lay there, limp between the two soldiers that were holding him, staring at me with those eyes of his—only one its true colour; the other still covered by a contact. He stared at me as the soldiers drug him past me, up the walk and to the waiting unmarked van, turning his head as they passed so that he could maintain the eye contact.

His gaze made me uncomfortable, but I refused to look away. I had already proven physically that I was superior; that I had finally been the one to win our little game; now I had to do it mentally, as well. I had to show him that I held no remorse for my actions. I had to show him that I was the dominant one. I had to show him that I was the better soldier, in the end.

I had to lie to him the same way I was lying to myself.

It was raining when they took him. His skin smoked and blistered and burned where each drop hit him, but he still made no move to struggle, allowed no sound to escape his lips. He just stared, only breaking the gaze when his head couldn't turn around far enough to hold it any longer. It was only then that I moved from my spot by his front door, which stilly lay wide open, revealing all of its secrets. I walked behind them, my head held high and proud, keeping up my mask of being in perfect control of the situation.

He stayed silent until he was loaded into the back cargo area of the van, his arms held behind his back my manacles at his wrists. As the van doors began to shut, he stuck his foot out, not even wincing as the heavy metal door made contact with his shin.

It was the only move he had made so far to fight against his fate and it caught my attention thoroughly—which I'm sure was his intention.

His eyes still riveted on mine, he allowed one word to escape his lips, "Why?"

There was no need to elaborate. Six years of studying each other's every move had made it so that he and I rarely actually had to speak, anymore. We were able to communicate with only our eyes, our bodies. He knew the reason that I had finally sweat and bled enough before the Swollen Eyeballs to convince them that my findings were real and that they needed to come and take him to the labs. He knew just as well as I did—he was in my head just as much as I was in his. The fact that he needed me to say it aloud; that he needed to hear the words with his ears instead of with his mind and soul and instincts…I could tell in an instant that his feelings of betrayal far surpassed mine of guilt.

"Because I'm tired of playing, Zim," I answered, quietly, talking around the long lock of hair that the rain was plastering down in the middle of my face, "I need the game to be over. I'm a grown up, now. It's time for me to put away my toys."

The look he gave me flashed from hurt to anger to defeated acceptance all in a matter of seconds. He retracted his leg from where it was blocking the doors and curled into himself in the back of the van, focusing his mix-matched eyes on the wall farthest from the doorway. I nodded to the soldiers on either side of me to finish closing the doors, and then stepped back onto the sidewalk as the van started and pulled away.

I stood there for a long time after the van had disappeared from my sight. Alone, cold, and wet, convincing myself that this is what growing up was all about. Without another look towards the ugly green house with its wide open door, I began the long walk home.

-

"You're dripping on the carpet." My sister's voice rose, disembodied, from the couch. She was lying beyond my view, the only indication that she was in the room, aside from her voice, was the beeping of her GameSlave.

"I'll clean it up in a minute." I mumbled, trudging towards the stairs, wanting only to get out of my wet clothes and into a hot shower.

"That isn't going to help the fact that you're dripping everywhere _now_." Gaz stated, sitting up so that I could see her.

I glared at her. I was not in the mood for her bitching right now.

"What do you want me to do, Gaz, huh? Strip down to my boxers before I go upstairs so I'm not tracking the water through the house?"

She scrunched her nose at me in distaste, taken aback.

"Ew, no. You in you underwear is the _last_ thing that I want to see. You could at least take off your jacket and hang it up or something."

I sighed, but did as she asked, ripping the trench coat off of me and then stomping to the kitchen to hang it over the sink. Stomping back out, I stood in the doorway, and flung my arms out at my sides. "There. Are you happy, now, Princess? Anything else I can do to make your life easier?" I spat.

She glared at me, dangerously, from underneath her bangs. I was treading on shaky ground, now, I knew, but I didn't care. Let her beat me up—I wouldn't feel it at this point, anyhow.

"What the hell is wrong with you, tonight?" She asked, indignantly.

"I don't want to talk about it." I stated, making my way back towards the stairs. She jumped over the back of the couch and put herself in my way.

"No, fuck that, what the hell is wrong with you?" She demanded, her small hand on my chest to impede my movements.

I looked down at her hand and then up at her face. I pushed her away easily with one arm. No matter how much stronger than me she was when we were children, years of battle and training had made it so that, if she ever wanted the upper hand, she would have to work for it.

I heard her growling at my back as I walked away from her. "You're acting weirder than usual. There is obviously something wrong, just tell me already!"

I turned towards her at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister, "You say that as if you're worried about me, Little Sister." I mused, my voice mocking. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, double thinking herself. I smirked, "Yeah, that's what I thought. And what makes you think that I would trust you enough to tell you anything, anyhow? Naive little girl." I chuckled to myself, and started the rest of the way up the stairs.

Buy the time I heard her muttered, "Asshole", I was laughing so hard, tears were running down my face.

-

"Good job, Agent Mothman. I commend you for your valiant effort in obtaining the specimen."

"Thank you, Agent DarkBooty." I replied, not even trying to tone down the giant grin that threatened to split my face. Even if I did try, there was no way that I would be able to, so why bother? Any trace of guilt that I had felt the night before had disappeared by morning and to be replaced by a deeply rooted need to show off my achievement and collect the praise (and apologies) that I had due.

DarkBooty returned my smile and motioned for me to follow him down the hall into the main part of the facility. "As you can see, your father has been more than generous in providing for us a section of his labs to hold the specimen. He must be very proud of you."

I faltered for a moment, my good mood momentarily shattered by the mention of my father. Yes, it was true that he was glad that my ranting about Zim had been correct, but it was more out of relief that he didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of having an "insane" son, anymore than pride. I recovered quickly, however, and quickened my pace to catch up with my mentor.

"Your specimen is being held at the end of this hallway," DarkBooty continued, not realizing that I had been lagging behind, "For now we are just doing the basic tests on the subject, finding out as much about its bodily functions from the outside, first."

As we walked, we were greeted by choruses of "Hey, congratulations, Dib!" and "I knew you couldn't have _really _been insane." from the people that we passed.

"We've scheduled his official autopsy to be done a week from today." DarkBooty paused as we came to a metal door that was locked with a keypad and swipe card panel. He turned to me, a sinister gleam in his eye, "I expect that you will be wanting to make the first incision, correct?"

His question caught me off guard. Me? Personally be involved in the autopsy of Zim? "Yes—yes of course!" I stammered, my grin growing wider.

DarkBooty laughed, heartily and clapped me on the shoulder, "Good boy, Dib. Nice to see you're not squeamish about getting your hands dirty."

That said, he pulled a swipe card from his pocket and, sliding it through the panel on the door, typed a few numbers into the keypad below it. He handed, then, the card to me. "This is your pass into the lower labs, where we're keeping your specimen. The code is 666777. Keep that card on you at all times. It's your security pass as well as your key."

I nodded my understanding, and slid the card into my trench coat pocket.

The door slid open, revealing another hallway, this one lined with what looked like metal detectors on either side. DarkBooty nodded for me to follow him as he stepped into the hall.

As we walked, sprays of slightly moist mist shot out of the holes in the "metal detectors." The spray tickled my face and hands as I walked and made me sneeze.

"God bless you." DarkBooty responded, automatically, "Don't worry, kid, this is all just procedural stuff. Basic sanitations and such. Wouldn't want the specimen becoming ill off of any germs that we're bringing in, now would we?"

I was tempted to point out that Zim had been living on Earth for the past 6 years, and, no matter how paranoid the alien was, if our germs could kill him, he could have been dead long ago. I bit my tongue, however.

At the end of the hall, there was another locked door, this one made of glass. DarkBooty stepped back and motioned me toward the door. "You unlock this one. I want to make sure that your card works and that you know the code."

I nodded and stepped forward. Swiping the card, I pressed the numbers and DarkBooty had told me moments before. 666777. A small infa-red light shone from a camera in the upper right hand corner of the door and ran quickly over both me and my companion. Seemingly satisfied, it disappeared and the door slid open with a hiss.

"SCAN COMPLETE. WELCOME MEMBRANE, DIB AND FISHMONGER, CLARENCE." a robotic voice greeted.

I looked back at DarkBooty who's face was tinged slightly pink. "Clarence Fishmonger?" I asked, an amused smirk on my face.

"It's a family name." he grunted, as he pushed past me.

I chuckled a bit before following him, "Yeah. sure it is."

As we entered the room, I noticed that, not only was it huge, but it was bustling with activity. Scientists and Swollen Eyeball members hurried everywhere, looking over paperwork, mixing chemicals, welding together or tinkering with machinery. I took a deep breath, allowing the smell of success and progress to fill my lungs. All of this was because of me. This was where I was finally going to make something of myself.

We were approached by a young woman not much older than I was, wearing a white lab coat. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun with a few pencils and her eyes were dark behind her horn rimmed glasses. She carried a clipboard.

"Oh, there you are, Agent." DarkBooty greeted.

The girl smiled, and took DarkBooty's extended hand, shaking it warmly.

"It's good to see you, again, Sir," she answered. Her eyes then flickered to me and she glanced back to DarkBooty pointedly.

"Oh, how could I be so rude?" DarkBooty admonished himself, "Agent, this is Dib Membrane, the young man who caught the specimen that we're going to be working on. Dib, this is Agent Euro. She's going to be your lab assistant while you're working with us." I smiled and offered my hand, which she shook, firmly.

"It is an honor to meet you, Dib." she stated, her eyes boring into mine behind the lenses of her glasses.

I couldn't help but blush, a now familiar worm feeling worming its way into my gut, "Thank you, Agent." I answered.

She retracted her hand and gave a little wave, "Just call me Euro, everyone else does."

I grinned, "Okay, Euro it is, then."

"I hate to interrupt this cozy moment," DarkBooty began, sarcastically, "But shouldn't we be moving onwards?"

Euro looked abashed for a moment, "Oh, yes, of course, you're right, Sir." She stammered, composing herself. She turned and motioned over her shoulder, "If you just follow me, I'll show you to where the specimen is being kept."

I glanced at DarkBooty, who gestured that I should go ahead of him. I nodded and then followed my new assistant.

"What's going on here?" I asked, when we had caught up with her.

"The other scientists and Agents are working on various tests that we can perform on the specimen. Seeing as this is our first genuine alien, we are very determined to gather as much data from it as possible." Euro answered. Still, as we walked, I was greeted with praise from all around me. I had never felt so alive. But still something was bothering me.

I frowned, "Shouldn't the notes that I provided give you most of the information that you need?"

Euro opened her mouth to answer, but DarkBooty beat her to it, "Your notes were surprisingly thorough for the age you were when you began studying the creature, but still there is so much more that we can learn now that we have it under our microscopes, as it were."

I nodded, still frowning. All of this referring to Zim as "it" and "specimen" and now "creature" was starting to bother some small part of me. I shook my head to get rid of the feeling. That was, after all, all he really was, right? It was my own fault that I had personified the alien. Now was the time that I needed to correct that fault.

I cleared my throat, "How has he—it—been responding to the experiments so far?" I asked. We passed a few scientist putting what looked like the final touches on a large machine with two rows of spinning blades. I tried to keep myself from thinking about what it might be used for.

"Surprisingly docile, actually," Euro answered, "its barely made a sound except to protest having the pod on its back removed. Once referring to your notes, we realized why, and are now working on a way to separate it from the personality and intelligence centers of the unit, but still keep body functions."

I stopped dead in my tracks, "You're going to deactivate his personality?" I asked, horrified. Euro stopped as well, turning to fact DarkBooty and I.

"Come, now, Dib, you act as if the creature were _human_. We're going to cut it open, anyhow, what does it matter whether or not it has _personality_?" DarkBooty admonished, continuing onward, leading the way. Euro and I looked at each other and then began walking again, Euro falling into step beside me.

"Besides, Dib—the experiments—especially the autopsy—is going to hurt him. A lot. He's going to be alive and conscious when you cut into him next week—that's the only way we can get accurate results. It would be kinder if we rid him of any knowledge of what is happening." she whispered as we walked.

I nodded my understanding, and then something occurred to me. "Hey! You called Zim a 'him' instead of an 'it'!" I pointed out.

She looked surprised for a moment, raising her hand to her mouth. "I…I did, didn't I? Uh, well, you see…I've been reading your notes so excessively, lately, that I feel as if I know him as well as you do. I'm sorry, I know that we're not supposed to personify the alien, but—"

I reached out, laying my hand on her arm to quiet her, "Hey, don't worry about it. I wasn't yelling at you. It actually makes me feel better, knowing that I'm not the only one who realizes that Zim is…Zim." I stated.

She smiled in gratitude and then fell silent. Her face twitched, slightly, as if she were still mentally berating herself, but I decided not to say anymore on the subject. Nor did I really have the chance, because in a few moments my thoughts were interrupted by DarkBooty stating, "And here we are."

In front of us stood a glass box, not unlike the cages that are in zoos, nowadays, except without the "lifelike natural habitat". Behind the glass sat Zim, huddled in a corner of the box, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms around them in a fetal like posture. His eyes were closed, his head resting backwards against the glass. There was a tag-like device pierced through one of his antenna.

I stepped forward and pressed my hand against the glass. As if sensing that I was there, Zim lifted his head and stared at me. I expected to see hatred reflected back at me, but instead I saw nothing. His eyes were empty, the spark and fight that was so familiar, gone. This small, broken creature was not the Zim that I knew. It was a stranger.

Somehow, this made me feel better about my decision to turn him in.

"As you can see," Euro was saying, laying her hand on the side of the cage much the way I was, "the specimen has been tagged and is being monitored at all times."

"Can he hear us in there?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes from Zim's empty gaze.

Euro shook her head, "No. the holding tank is completely sound proof. When necessary, the glass can be turned opaque and it becomes a virtual sensory deprivation tank. We have yet to perform that experiment, however."

I nodded my understanding, still staring at the alien that I had finally put behind glass. I was startled from my reverie by DarkBooty's hand as he grasped my shoulder.

"We should be moving along, now. I have much to debrief you on about the progress that has been made so far." He stated.

"Yes, of course." I answered, finally able to turn away from the tank. As we walked away it was all I could do to keep from looking back.

-

When I walked in the front door, that day, I was greeted by a planter shattering against the wall a mere inch from my head. A very angry Gaz stood on the other side of the room, one of the Membrane lamps in her hand, poised to launch. Partially hidden behind her right leg was a small silver robot. Gir. So that's where he had run off to when we stormed Zim's base. Made sense, considering how much time the small robot and my sister had spent together within the past few years. Come to think of it, Gaz had grown close to both the robot _and_ his master over the past few years. Judging from the murderous gleam in her eye, I guess that she had heard the news.

"Um…hi, Gaz." I greeted, hesitantly. I ducked as the lamp flew over my head. Gaz's aim wasn't normally this bad. She was either deliberately missing so that I would have a chance to explain myself before being knocked unconscious, or her rage was so severe that she couldn't hold her arm steady. I prayed that it was the former. At least then, I had a fighting chance.

"Don't 'hi, Gaz', me you traitorous asshole." she growled, reaching for another lamp from the end table.

"Look, let me explain—"

"Explain? Explain what? That you sold Zim out? That gaining a reputation other than 'that crazy Membrane kid' was worth more than our friend's _life_? How _could_ you, Dib? Do you know what they're going to _do_ to him in that place?"

"Look, I—"

"No, _you_ look, Dib." I ducked another lamp, "I thought that you had out grown that whole wanting to destroy Zim thing. Were you just faking it for the past four years? For God's sake, you two were going to room together at the University this year! Was it all a _game_ to you? A way to gain his trust only to betray him for an emotional thirty pieces of silver?"

"It was always a _game_, Gaz!" I shouted, "The entire time that he's been on this planet, it's just been a _game_.; one that I was tired of playing. Things change, Gaz, it was time I grew up. Maybe you should do the same."

She was out of ammo. Glaring, she reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope and threw it at me. I caught it against my chest. A few hundred dollar bills drifted to the ground.

"Dad left that for you this morning. A 'reward' for not being insane after all. There's six grand in there. I counted it. Take it and get the hell out of here. You're no longer welcome in this house."

I looked up at her, sharply, my mouth hanging open, "But Gaz—"

"Don't. Just don't." she held up her hand, cutting me off, "If you want to be a grown up so badly, it's time you learned to live on your own. I would hate to hold you back on this grand self actualization trip you're on. Now _leave._"

I knew better than to argue with her when she had that look. Nodding curtly, I turned and opened the front door. As I stepped back out into the cold, I heard Gir's small voice ask.

"Why does the Bid Headed Boy hate my master, Gazzy?"

"Don't worry about it, Gir, he can't hurt you anymore. Let's go see if there's anything to eat in the kitchen, alright?" my sister answered, surprising warmth in her voice.

I sighed and closed the door behind me, walking towards my car. Time to find a hotel to hole up in for the night.

_-_

"_Dib, how does it feel to be the first to discover extraterrestrial life?"_

"_Mr. Membrane, what is the status of the alien life form?"_

"_Hey, Dib, how's it feel to not be crazy anymore?"_

No matter where I went, the questions were endless. Reporters, scientists, kids I used to go to school with, they all wanted to listen, now, to hear what I had to say. I was important. I was somebody. I was Sane. I spent my afternoons in the lab, studying and experimenting on Zim, my evenings going over paperwork in the living room of my new apartment. The date of the autopsy was quickly approaching. and there was still so much that we needed to learn. Euro had informed me that, while the autopsy had to begin with him alive, the chances of him actually surviving the whole thing was slim to none. We had to gather as much information as we could before we proceeded.

Finally, it was Thursday night. The night before the autopsy. After eating dinner by myself, I toasted the grand occasion with a bottle of champagne, drinking myself to sleep. For some reason I just didn't want to think, anymore. I needed to be completely numb in order to make it through the next day—might as well start early.

"_What did you call me over here, for, Dib-Worm. I was busy working on another GENIOUS plan to _doom_ this filthy planet. " Zim asked, walking up to where I was lying on the roof of my house._

"_Which star belongs to your planet?" I asked, still staring at the sky._

"_What? You called me all the way over here for _that_!" Zim raged._

"_Yes."_

_He was silent for a few minutes and then I heard him sigh as he walked over and took a seat next to me. He looked up at the sky, studying it for a few minutes and then pointed._

"_You see that little cluster over there?"_

"_Mmmhmm."_

"_It's that star, over there. The second one from the right."_

_I raised my arm and pointed to where I thought he was looking. "There?"_

"_No," he answered, shaking his head, and adjusting my hand, "there."_

"_Oh."_

_We fell into a comfortable silence. After a moment, Zim shifted and asked, "Is that all? Can I go back to dooming, now?"_

"_No." I replied, "Do you miss it?"_

"_What, dooming your miserable existence?"_

"_No, you moron, your planet. Irk. Do you miss it?"_

_Zim was silent for a moment, and then answered, "Sometimes. A lot. Yeah, I guess."_

"_Do you think that it misses you?"_

_My question seemed to catch him off guard, "I—I don't see how that is of any relevance—" He began._

_I sat up and stared into his eyes. It was impossible to read his expression though his contacts._

"_You've been here for six years, Zim. Don't you think that if the Armada were coming, that they would have been here by now?"_

"_What are you getting at, Stink-Beast? I am in contact with the Tallests daily. They assure me that once I've progressed far enough—"_

"_Oh give it up, already!" I shouted, jumping to my feet. Zim rose as well, glaring, "You know damned well that you're never going to 'progress' enough, and even if you did, your leaders don't give a flying donut about this shit hole little planet! Your mission is a _joke_ Zim, and you know it just as well as I do. Why do you insist on continuing this _game_?"_

"_Maybe because it's all I have left, did that ever occur to you, Human? Huh? Maybe the only thing that keeps me from destroying myself is the challenge—knowing that, no matter what I do, you're going to be there to fight me, to keep me useful. My only purpose in life is to invade this filthy ball of dirt, just like yours seems to be to defend it."_

"_My life goes beyond defending it. I don't need this game to survive." I countered._

"_Oh yeah, well prove it." _

_I narrowed my eyes at the alien, resolve boiling up inside of me, "Fine, Zim, maybe I will." I stated, and then, turning, walked to the ladder that was propped against the side of the house._

I awoke with a start to the sound of my alarm. Running my hands over my face, I breathed in deeply, willing the remnants of the dream away. That had been the last time that Zim and I had spoken, only a month or so before the raid on his base. The final straw. The one that broke this camel's back. The reason why Zim was not at all surprised when I showed up at his front door with the freaking SWAT team.

Climbing out of bed, I headed for the bathroom. I needed a hot shower. Nothing like scalding yourself to make you forget.

-

"You don't have to do this, you know." Euro's voice stated from behind me as I washed my hand in the sink of the prep room.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"This. The autopsy. You don't have to do it."

I turned to her, reaching out my hand for a towel. Noticing a pile next to her, she grabbed one and handed it to me.

"What do you mean, I don't have to do it? Of course I have to do it. This is my life's work, Euro." I replied, drying my hands.

"Your life's work is killing your friend?" she asked, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses.

I glared at her, tossing the towel on the counter, "I don't see how it's any business of yours."

"It's not. I'm just saying that you don't have to do it. You have a choice, you know."

"What? To go back to being the 'crazy kid'? To go back to being a nobody? That's ok, I'll pass." I shot, pushing my way past her to the door. "Wash up, we start in twenty."

I felt the heat of her glare on my back as I left, "Yes, sir." She replied. I slammed the door behind me.

-

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the science community! We welcome you to the newest Extraterrestrial Studies wing of Membrane Labs. Thank you for coming to our first ever Alien Autopsy. If you would just take your seats, we shall begin shortly." The announcer stated. There was a slight commotion in the viewing booths above me as the scientists who had come to watch made their ways to their seats.

Zim lay out on the cold metal table, completely stripped of clothing, a white sheet pulled up to his midsection. He was strapped down by his wrists and ankles, and I had been assured earlier that no anesthetic had been used on him. It might botch the results of the experiment.

I stood by the table at the ready, clothed in a white lab coat, goggles, and gloves. Euro and DarkBooty stood with me, clothed similarly. Next to us was a tray of assorted knives, tweezers, vices and other such instruments. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I looked up into the booth and met the eyes of my father, who gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture, smiling weakly. Something was bothering me. I hadn't felt right all morning, since I had woken up from that dream. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I needed to focus. This was my moment. This was what I had been fighting all my life for. This was my due.

"We should begin, now." DarkBooty stated. I nodded, and picked up a scalpel from the tray next to me. Taking a deep breath I held it over Zim's exposed chest. In a moment of weakness, I glanced at my enemy's face. His red eyes were trained on me, empty, soulless.

I tore my eyes away, focusing on the moment at hand. Taking another breath, I prepared myself to make the cut.

"I'm making the first incision…"

"_Maybe because it's all I have left, did that ever occur to you, Human? Huh?"_

My hand hesitated, beginning to shake. I wiped my forehead with the back of my other arm, and tried again. "I'm making the first…"

" _Maybe the only thing that keeps me from destroying myself is the challenge—knowing that, no matter what I do, you're going to be there to fight me, to keep me useful."_

"Dib, what's wrong?" DarkBooty whispered, "Just make the cut, already."

I looked up at him, and then nodded, trying to will my hand steady. "I'm…"

"_My only purpose in life is to invade this filthy ball of dirt, just like yours seems to be to defend it."_

"I'm…" my hand wouldn't obey me. Something was keeping me from making the incision. Something wouldn't allow me to do the one thing that I had been dreaming of since I was twelve.

"Dib, what the hell has gotten into you?" DarkBooty was demanding, his eyes narrowed with frustration. I could hear a murmur begin from the observation booth.

"_Were you just faking it for the past four years? Was it all a game to you?"_

"I…"

"Dib!"

Both of my hands were shaking now, the force causing my whole body to vibrate. Sweat poured from my forehead in a river. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't end the game.

"I can't!" I shouted, throwing the scalpel across the room. It hit the opposite wall and clanked to the floor. "I can't do it. I can't cut into him."

"What the hell do you mean you can't cut into it? It's an _alien_, Dib. It's not like it's _real_. Just do it, already!" DarkBooty raged.

"But that's just it, sir, he _is_ real!"

"What the hell are you getting at, boy?"

I stopped, and considered my options. Then, realizing the right course of action, I did something that was completely out of character, something that I couldn't remember the last time I had done. I lied.

"Zim isn't an alien, sir."

There was a collective gasp from the observation booth.

"What the hell are you talking about, Dib? It can't be human! Its skin is green! It has antenna! Red eyes!"

"Skin condition." I could barely believe it as the old excuse fell from my lips. A quick glance at Zim's face showed his eyes wide with surprise, a faint, familiar glimmer glowing within them.

"I'm sorry, everyone." I stated, looking up at the observation booth. My eyes came to rest on my father. He turned away, "It was all game that got out of hand. I didn't mean for it to go this far. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to waste everyone's time and money." I looked at the ground, "I'm sorry."

"Damn straight you should be sorry!" DarkBooty shouted, "Do you know how much manpower was wasted on this project? I'm taking away your membership to this society, Membrane. You are finished in the Swollen Eyeballs. Lousy kid." he finished, stomping towards the door. I could hear the scientists above me doing the same. Soon, only I, Zim, and Euro were left.

Zim sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "I thought you were tired of the game, Dib-Worm." he said.

I shrugged, "Looks like I'm not quite ready to let it all go."

He smiled at me warily and then looked over at Euro. Following his gaze, I saw that the girl was grinning ear to ear.

"I knew it! I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed, jumping a little and clapping. I raised an eyebrow at her. "No, no, we don't have time for questions," she stated, before I could say anything. She raised one hand, her fingers curled together, "you need to get moving. Time is short, my friend. I'll see you in the next Test."

Before I could say I word of protest, she snapped.

Funny how one can get used to the sensation of falling.

-

A/n: So that was a lot shorter than normally, but, truth be told, I was kinda bored with the subject. Felt so…strange…doing something that had been done a million or so times over by other authors. Didn't really have the same excitement as I normally do while writing. However, I'm also in the middle of one of my low points in my bi-polar cycle, so I don't exactly have the energy to get excited about much, period. Damn chemical imbalances. Hopefully it didn't come out too much in the chapter, aside from making it a lot shorter than normal. Don't worry, though, the next chapter will make up for it…I hope.

References? I think that there's only one.

I'm wondering if anyone is picking up on the pattern, yet. I'll give you a hint—it has to do with the Voice. Maran Zelde is close on her guess as to what is up with the whole voice thing, though there's a little more to it. The Blood chapter was also not the first time that that force has showed itself, though it hasn't always been in an intangible form. Perhaps I am giving too much away. To tell the truth, it's something that I only consciously realized I was doing a few weeks ago.

At any rate, as always, it's about 3am, and I should be sleeping cos I have class in the morning. R and R, people. It makes the fact my eyes burn and my neck is cramped worth it. :)

-j


	8. Pain

A/n: First off, dear god, people, you are Awesome! Thank you all for your great reviews.

There is a very loud party going on a few apartments over from me. There is a lot of yelling and, after walking to my slider to see, there seems to be a soccer game going on in the courtyard with a giant inflatable beach ball thing. Know that it is 230 am. I'm partially tempted to go down and crash the party and gain some free beer, and partially tempted to yell from my balcony "for god's sake, people need to get some sleep!" But seeing as how I'm writing this, and not sleeping, and I'm in my pjs (plus it's cold outside--cold being 50 degrees, but still. This is Florida. 50 degrees is artic.) So I'll just listen to the sound of them having fun and try to ignore the pounding headache they are causing. The jerks.

References:

"Second star to the right"—Peter Pan. Straight on till morning, ya?

Though I'm wondering where the name "Clarence Fishmonger" came from. I Googled it, but nothing came up. Guess my brain is just weird. It does sound familiar, though, you guys are right.

So I am going against my preordained chapter order and am putting the Lust Test before the Envy one. Why? Because the Envy one is going to deal with things that I do not have personal experience with, and therefore, I need to do more research, so I switched things around. Just so you guys know, this is not the chapter that will have the hinted slash in it (no matter what you may automatically think whenever you see the word "lust")—that is the Envy chapter. This one does, however, deals with some very…adult…themes, for lack of a better word, and therefore I put the following warning:

WARNING: This chapter contains Cutting. If you are a Cutter and are easily triggered by reading about the subject, please skip this chapter and wait for next week when I update again to continue reading. I'm serious. It's hard enough for me to handle that my own irrational addiction put the idea into a friend of mine's head years ago that it's a good way to deal with emotional pain. I would hate to have someone have the urge to cause themselves to bleed because of my words. And anyone who looks at this and thinks that I'm being conceited by thinking that what I write is going to affect someone that way, think about someone who smoked for years and then quit. Every time that person is around a smoker/watches someone light up/smells the smoke, etc, he is going to want a cigarette. His fingers are going to itch for the feeling of that tiny paper tube between them. That's what it's like for any addiction and Cutting is no different. Sometimes you read about it or hear about it and your fingers itch for a blade and your skin feels too tights and all you can think about is what a release it would be to spill your own blood. I dare you to tell me that I am wrong.

So please, this is going to be hard enough for me to write. If you think it will upset you, just don't read, ok?

I would like to thank anyone who may be reading this who read my little note in OLT and sent me their sympathy or what not. It means a lot, both because it's nice to hear that someone gave a damn enough to take a minute out of their time to tell me that they understand, and also that you will all be patient for an update on that story. Thank you so much for your understanding.

So sorry that this has taken so long. A lot has happened within the past month and it's been hard for me to write. I find it ironic that I take a break from this site right when I got so many compliments on how quickly I updated. Heh. But thank you all for your patience. Really. You are all wonderful.

So without further ado, I'll leave you guys with the next chapter.

DISCLAIMER: Why am I even bothering? If you think I own Zim, you're insane and think that six is a prime number. (Oh bloody hell.)

You Only Live Twice

PART EIGHT: In which Dib discovers pain.

Main Entry: **lust**  
Pronunciation: 'l&st  
Function: _noun_  
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English; akin to Old High German _lust _pleasure and perhaps to Latin _lascivus _wanton  
**1** _obsolete_ **a** **: PLEASURE, DELIGHT** **b** personal inclination **: WISH**  
**2** usually intense or unbridled sexual desire **: LASCIVIOUSNESS**  
**3 a** an intense longing **: CRAVING** **b** **: ENTHUSIASM, EAGERNESS**

The blade ran easily and smoothly over my skin. Once. Twice. On the third pass, I cut a little deeper than intended, causing myself to wince involuntarily as the red welled up and flowed over my arm, dripping onto the floor in small splatters like opaque spider webs. Closing my eyes for a moment, willing my breath and heartbeat to slow, I clenched my jaw tightly, begging in my mind for the tears to stay hidden safely behind my eyelids. This was neither the time, nor the place to be caught with swollen and tear stained cheeks. Come to think of it, this wasn't the time or the place to be caught with a blade in my hand, either, but it was a little too late to deal with that little problem. One thing at a time.

"Dib?"

I heard the door to the bathroom swing open and then shut again, as an all too familiar voice called my name.

"Stink Beast? You in here? Hello?"

His boots treaded heavily on the cheap and peeling linoleum floor as Zim paused before every stall, checking for inhabitants. I realized that even if I were to put my feet up and curl myself up onto the toilet seat, he would see the drops of blood on the floor and I would be discovered. Hurriedly I placed the toe of my sneaker over the drops and called out, "Go away, Zim."

The alien's footsteps paused for a moment and then turned towards the sound of my voice. He walked over to the stall where I was hidden and stood in front of it. While all I could see where the toes of his Irken issue combat boots, I knew that he was cocking his head quizzically at the door to the stall, the way he always did when he was confused about something.

"Hello, talking bathroom stall. Have you eaten Dib, again? That isn't very nice you know. And you know that you don't like the taste of him, anyhow, or else you wouldn't keep spitting him out like you do, which I understand completely, since human meat is kind of tough and sour tasting." Zim's voice stated though the door.

I scrunched up my face at his last comment. Yuck.

"But since you have decided that you wanted to give him another try, and since he is my friend, I must demand that you spit him out right this instant or face the wrath of the Irken Elite. And I warn you, my Irken Eliteness is more Elite that I think you, as a lowly talking bathroom stall would be able to handle. I am a very formidable opponent whenever I am mad, and you consuming my friend doesn't make me necessarily happy. So again, I must insist—"

I couldn't take much more of his ramblings. Sighing, I pocketed my switchblade and wrapped my injured arm in toilet paper, stanching the flow of blood for the moment. Flinching as I pushed the sleeve of my shirt back down, I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Give it a rest, Zim, will ya?" I asked as I pushed past him to the sink.

"Ah ha! The talking toilet stall has released you once again! Victory for ZIM!"

"Whatever." I mumbled, turning on the water and squeezing some soap into my hands from the dispenser.

The alien joined me at the sink, watching over my shoulder as I washed my hands. He had, years ago, discovered a serum that would make him grow at the same rate as the rest of us. This made it so that, while I was still taller than him by a few inches, he was able to look over my shoulder with little to no difficulty.

"So, isn't it customary for your people to flush the toilet…thingy…when leaving the bathroom stall?"

Damn. I knew I had forgotten something.

"That's only if you actually, you know, go while you're in there." I explained, still focusing on my hands. I knew that I needed to wash out the cuts that I had just made, but there was no way I could do that with Zim standing here over my shoulder. The jerk.

"So you didn't go?"

"Umm..no."

"Oh. So…why where you in there, then?"

Damn, again. Come on, brain, there're 180 IQ points at your disposal, think of some kind of excuse!

"I was thinking." Oh, that's it, Dib. Nice one, there's no _way_ he could see though that.

"You came in _here_ to think?"

"Umm…yeah." Realizing that he wasn't going to leave me alone long enough for me to clean my wounds, I shut off the water and made my way to the paper towel dispenser.

"Why?"

"Damn it, Zim!" I angrily threw the towel that I was using into the trash can and spun towards the green boy, "Why the hell are you so interested in my bathroom habits all of a sudden? What's it to you?"

Zim looked sheepish and small, as if the force of my words had hurt him. "Sorry, I was just concerned. You've been in here for the entire lunch break every day. I mean, I could understand if the cafeteria drones were serving creamed spinach and sauerkraut, again, but it's been weeks since we've had that—"

I sighed and held up a hand, cutting him off, "It's ok, Zim. I've just had a lot on my mind, lately, and haven't really been able to stand the herd, you know?"

Zim nodded and shrugged, a gesture that would seem normal on anyone else, but still looked so foreign whenever he did it, even though he had been on earth for a little over five years, now.

As we started to leave the bathroom, something occurred to me. "Hey, Zim? How do you know that humans taste tough and sour? When did you eat a human?"

He grinned that zipper toothed grin of his, "I ate your sister last night, Stink Beast."

I stopped, dead, and stared at him, "Dude. Zim. Ew."

He stopped as well, cocking his head at me, "What? I thought that your people made sexually euphemist jokes about each other's family members all the time?"

"I know, but still—it's Gaz. That's disgusting." I turned and started back towards the door.

"But I thought—"

"No."

"What if I—"

"No." I pushed the door open and walked out, not bothering to hold it for the alien, who was still standing in the doorway, trying to figure out a way to make his joke less gross.

"There's got to be a way—"

"No, Zim." I called back over my shoulder as I made my way down the hall. I could hear the door shut softly behind me, blocking the sound of Zim's voice.

I didn't bother waiting for him to catch up. I had things to do.

* * *

I don't know when this intense need to live my life as drastically as possible started. I would like to think that it was when Zim walked his skinny green ass into my sixth grade classroom, but deep down I know that it had begun long before that. Why else would I have devoted my life to discovering and documenting the things that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat? Why would I have such an obsession with death-defying stunts and that sudden rush of adrenalin when I was face to face with a bleeding ghost or climbing the radio tower after the Bigfoot baby that lived next door? I needed that rush, that feeling, that sudden burst of energy that let me know that I was actually Alive and not just Living. Zim's arrival may have made my obsession more obvious, but it was far from the beginning.

I stood on the roof of my house, feet halfway over the edge, my arms spread straight out at my side, my face tipped to the sky, relishing in the feeling of the wind as it playing with my hair and caressed my face like a lover. I leaned forward slightly, into the wind, balancing barely on my perilous perch. What would happen if I were to fall? Would I die, or would I merely injure myself, yet again? Some small, sane, reasonable part of my brain informed me that my constant dance with death was just another form of Self Mutilation, but I pushed it away, chuckling. I had been forced to go to enough head shrinkers at this point that I already knew that; it was old news. It didn't matter because I didn't care. I lived in the moment, and this moment was dedicated to knowing that the slightest change in movement would send me to my death. This moment was dedicated to knowing that I was Alive.

"Dib, what the hell are you doing up there?" my sister shouted from the sidewalk, her long violet hair whipping around her like a cape in the wind as she glared up at me.

Her voice had startled me and I felt myself momentarily lose my balance and start to fall. I spun my arms, trying to regain purchase as my heart leaped into my throat, my breath seemingly frozen in my lungs. There it was, the perfect moment. A second later, I was able to right myself and allowed my legs to finally collapse from under me and my body to relax as I sat back on the roof. I lay on my stomach, my head hanging over the edge in order to look at my sister.

"What do you want?" I called to her.

"You idiot! You almost gave me a heart attack!" She shouted back, one hand pressed to her chest as the other fought to keep her hair out of her eyes.

I fought back a grin as I wondered what a real heart attack would feel like, "Sorry, Gaz. I didn't mean to."

I couldn't tell her expression from up here, but I knew that she was scowling. She almost always was. "You should come inside, it's going to storm." She stated.

"So?"

"_So_, it's going to lightning, and the last thing I need is to explain to Dad when you get struck, as fun as it would be to see if that stupid hair cut of yours would make the cable come in better."

I frowned as I self consciously reached up and smoothed down my hair. Stupid cowlick. Damn Dad's stupid genes.

Gaz was still looking up at me, both hands now holding her hair down from the wind, "Are you coming in or not?" She demanded.

I sighed. As much as I would like to watch at least the beginning of the storm from the roof, the argument that would ensue was just not worth it. I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I'll be down." I called. She nodded and walked back into the house.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the darkening sky, my arms crossed under my head. I closed my eyes and breathed in the electric, muggy, wet smell of the coming storm. It was a smell that, as a child, always reminded me of smooshed worms, but now made me think of raw power. Even the air itself was anxious as it lay in wait for the first bolt of lightning to strike. Amazing.

Sighing again, because I knew that the longer I stayed up there, the more I would have to listen to my sister bitch, I stood and made my way to the ladder.

Perhaps next time I would get to watch the rain.

* * *

"What's been going on with you?" Gaz asked from the couch as I walked in the door after climbing down from the roof. She didn't even raise her eyes from the television where she was brutally killing zombies.

"What are you talking about?" I responded, my hand nervously and subconsciously rubbing my arm.

She paused her game and looked over at me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Zim called earlier, while you were on the roof. Said that you were hiding in the bathroom during lunch period, again.

"So?" I rolled my eyes at her and started towards the kitchen. A grilled cheese sandwich sounded good right about now.

"'So'—what's going on with you, lately You're hiding in the bathrooms at school—and not even during an actual class like a _normal _person, you were standing on the edge of the roof when it was about to storm," I could hear her voice grow louder as she joined me in the kitchen, "and I found _this_ in the laundry basket, this afternoon." I looked up from the fridge to have a cloth thrown on my face. Sputtering, I pulled it away and gasped. It was the shirt I had been wearing, today, the sleeve still stained dark red with blood, even though I had rinsed it out after I got home from school.

I glanced up at my sister who was standing there, smirking at me as if she had made a good point.

"Well?" She asked, obviously expecting an explanation.

"Well, what?" I replied, glaring at her. I put the bloody shirt on the table and then turned back to the fridge, pulling out the tub of butter and a few slices of cheese.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

I rolled my eyes, again, and slammed the food items onto the counter, trying very hard to keep my anger in check. Even if I were to tell her the truth, there was no way that she would understand; no way that she could possibly comprehend the feelings and sensations I experienced when I stood on the roof or pulled the blade across my skin. No way she could appreciate how it felt to touch death; to know that if you made one wrong move, it was all over. She had denounced the world outside of her video games long ago. She didn't know what it was like out there: how people would push and crowd you and try to focus your attention on anything but your own thoughts. How their closeness would clog your pores and your lungs, forbidding you from taking even a breath of air that was your own. She wouldn't understand the claustrophobic paranoia that came with being in a room full of people and knowing that you were utterly alone. She wanted me to explain my actions? To put into words what I was feeling? To hell with her; what did she care?

I turned to her, leaning against the counter, my arms crossed. "If you must know, I've been 'hiding' in the bathroom 'cause the cafeteria food is making me sick, and I was on the edge of the roof because I was trying to get a good view of the gutters to see if they need cleaned so that I don't get attacked by a five year old, decaying bird nest, again like I did last year."

She continued to glare at me, her lips pursed in disbelief. She walked over to the table where I had laid the shirt and picked it up, holding it up close to my face. "And this? What about this? Where is this blood from?"

Looking her straight in the eye, I said the first lie that came to mind, "Nosebleed."

She lowered the shirt, standing on her tip toes to get into my face, "You don't _get_ spontaneous nosebleeds, Dib." She sneered.

I pushed her away from me, "How the hell would you know?" I spat, turning back to my sandwich making. Screw grilled cheese—cooking would require me to be in the kitchen with Gaz for longer than I would be able to stand at this point. I would just have to eat it cold.

Gaz put her hand on my arm, trying to turn me back towards her, "'Cause I'm your sister, dumb ass. I would think that after staring at your stupid face for the past fifteen years I would know that your nose does not just spurt blood at random." She held the shirt back up, again, "At least not this much." she finished, her voice softer.

I sighed and turned back to her, sandwich in hand. "Look, Gaz, I'm fine. I don't know what you're all worried about all of a sudden, but I'm _fine_. Just leave me alone and _butt out_. Tell Zim that, too, next time you talk to him, since he's your best buddy now, and all."

I pushed past her and made my way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Faintly I could hear Gaz kick a cabinet and curse, but I decided to ignore it. If she broke something, that was her own problem, not mine.

* * *

Later that night, I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, one arm crossed behind my head. My other—the right one; the injured one—lay across my stomach, freshly bandaged. It hurt too much to put any pressure on it. I had cut deeper than I had originally intended. That had been happening more and more, lately. I never even noticed it while I was doing it, either. The only thing that I was focused on was the blade as it sliced through my skin. I barely even felt the pain, anymore, in the moment. Part of me wondered if that meant I was starting to cause nerve damage. Another, quieter, smaller part said that it proved I was falling further into my addiction. The rest of me thought that I should start using my left arm. Too bad I wasn't ambidextrous.

There was a knock on my door. Soft. Hesitant. I ignored it.

"Dib?" My sister's voice through the wood. She sounded upset. I didn't care.

"Come one, you loser, I know you're not asleep in there, let me in."

Nope, sorry, sis. Not in the mood.

"Damn it, Dib!" All semblance of gentleness gone. Knew she couldn't keep it up for long. The door shook a little as she kicked it, "Look, I'm just worried about you, alright? You've been doing some really dangerous things, lately, and I just…I don't want to lose you, alright? I just want you to be careful."

If this were an after school special, this would be the point where I got up, opened the door, and embrace my dear, loving sister, thanking her for her intervention. As it's not, however, I just rolled over, and put a pillow over my head.

Fuck her. I hope she gets an ulcer from all that "worrying".

* * *

The next few weeks passed by in silence. Gaz ignored me and Zim was lost somewhere in the bowels of his labs, cooking up some scheme or another to take over the world. While he and I had a tentative truce that allowed us to be friends, the fact still remained that he _was _still an Invader and therefore it _was_ still my responsibility to stop him at every turn. However, his plans seemed to have more holes in them the older we became—almost as if he wanted to be foiled, and my attempts to stop him seemed to have less enthusiasm than before—almost as if I wanted to fail.

But that couldn't have been the case…

…right?

* * *

"Dib!" My sister's voice made its way up the stairs, down the hall, through my door, past the barrier of my headphones, and into my brain.

"What?" I shouted back.

"Phone!"

I sighed and turned away from my computer, reaching for the cordless phone that sat on my nightstand. I clicked it on and held my hand over the mouthpiece. "I got it, Gaz!" I called, before placing the receiver to my ear.

"Hello?"

"zzzzzDib? zzzDib, lookzzzzz it'sz zzzrinzzzz—"

"Hey, I think we have a bad connection, I can't understand you."

"zzzit. There isn't muzzzz zzime. I knozzzzz zzzember, but there is somethzzzzzz zzzzerous in the Tezzzz."

"I'm sorry, whoever you are, but—"

"zzzisten! Your Soul is at zzzake! Don't liszzz zzzzzzzzzzzer! Whatzzer you zzzzz."

"My soul? Look, if you're selling God, I'm not interested, alright? I don't see why you people have to keep calling here. How about you just keep your religion to yourselves, alright?"

"No, you zzon't zzzzstand! zzzib! Don't—"

"I'm sorry, I'm hanging up, now. Goodbye."

I clicked off the phone and turned back to my computer.

Fucking Jehovah witnesses.

* * *

"You're bleeding."

A tap on the shoulder, a soft whispering voice. I looked beside me and saw clear green eyes. Stephanie. Her family had moved to town a week or so, before. She kept to herself, mostly, her face always planted in a comic book or guitar magazine. I think this might have been the first time I heard her speak, which is why I was so dumbfounded at her statement.

"What?"

Here eyes traveled downward to the sleeve of my shirt, which had turned from off white to a rather dark maroon colour. Following her gaze, I gasped and quickly tried to pull it from sight. She was faster than me, however, and caught my arm in a steel grip, her fingers pressing on where the wounds were in such a way that was not so much painful as…sensuous.

"Cuts that deep you should keep bandaged for at least a day—might help if you carry some Band Aids in your book-bag." She whispered. I gaped at her like an idiot and she smiled a secret smile and let go of my arm.

Before I could say another word, the bell rang and she was gone, making her way quickly through the mass of bodies that were herding themselves through the door. I jumped to my feet and gathered my books, bloody sleeve forgotten, determined to catch up to the girl and ask her how she knew about the cuts. I mean, the blood could have come from anywhere, even my trusty "nosebleed" answer that had become almost a trademark phrase by this point. But that she Knew that answer was bullshit and she Knew that the cuts on my arm were deeper than usual…I just needed to speak to her.

I fought my way through the crowd, standing on my toes at times to get a better look. It didn't help, though. I had lost her. I sighed, finally admitting defeat, and then was pulled by the back of my shirt into a nearby classroom. I turned to face my attacker, only to find myself staring back into bright green eyes. Stephanie was smiling that secret smile, again, and she pushed her long black hair behind her ear and winked.

"Looking for someone?"

Again I found myself at a loss for words, which was odd considering my penchant for talking to anyone who would listen (even if that person was myself most of the time) and she giggled.

"Funny, I never pegged you for the quiet type."

I just shrugged, wary of her attention. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the lump blocking my throat disappeared and I was able to manage speech.

"How did you know?"

She smiled, again, and then reached into her book-bag, pulling out some bandages. "We should get you cleaned up."

It was then that I realized that she had pulled me into one of the chemistry classrooms. I followed her over to one of the sinks, but flinched back as she reached for my arm. Her eyes met mine, again, one of her brows arched in question. I sighed and offered my bloody sleeve, which she pulled back to reveal my newest work. I cringed, expecting some negative reaction from her, but instead she worked silently and proficiently, her fingers cleansing the wounds gently enough not to make it hurt too badly, but firmly enough to wash away the dried blood.

I watched her in awe as she turned off the sink and dabbed my arm dry with paper towels. She then perched herself on the counter and began wrapping my arm in the gauze that she had magically pulled from her bag. Again, I was able to find my voice, "Why are you doing this?"

"It's going to be warm, soon, you should stop using your arm. That is, unless you are secure enough with yourself to go around in short sleeves." She replied, ignoring my question.

"What are you talking about?" I responded automatically, "I didn't do this myself. I—"

"—Fell on some glass, hurt yourself skateboarding, pissed off a cat, got into a fight, fell out of a tree, feel free to interject any original excuses here, if you have them, because I'm pretty sure that I've used every one in the book." She interrupted.

"You've—"

She stopped wrapping my arm for a moment and held up her own. Through the black gauze sleeve of her shirt, I could see the fine inter-workings of scars and cuts, all in various stages of healing. I met her eyes, again, and she shrugged, going back to her work.

We sat in silence for a few moments as she finished up, securing the bandage with a few strips of tape. "There, good as new." She stated.

I started to pull my sleeve back down over my arm when, again, her strong fingers stopped me. "You might want to rinse out your sleeve. Take off your shirt."

I frowned, but did as I was told. This mysterious girl obviously knew what she was talking about. I straightened the t-shirt I was wearing underneath and watched as she moved to a cabinet in the corner of the room, searching the shelves for a moment, before pulling out a small brown bottle. She walked back over to where I was standing and handed it to me.

"Peroxide," She explained, "pour it on the sleeve, first. It will help break up the blood so that it doesn't stain as badly."

I nodded and did as I was told, mentally chastising myself. Why didn't I ever think of that? After the sleeve was clean, I rang it out as best I could. I was hesitant to put it back on, though. The thought of cold wetness soaking into my newly bandaged arm just didn't appeal to me in the least.

"It's lunch, so you don't have to put your shirt back on quite yet. We can hang out here till the end of the period, and then if it's still damp, you could always hold it under one of the blowers in the bathroom." Stephanie said, again seeming to read my mind. I nodded and laid the shirt out on a nearby table before jumping up to sit on the counter opposite of hers. We stared at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up. She was only a few inches shorter than me, long and willowy, with waist length black hair that matched the rest of her attire. Too much black makeup lined her eyes, making her look dangerous and exotic. She looked like a witch, and I told her as much, to which she giggled in response.

"Will you be disappointed if I'm not?" she asked.

I shook my head, grinning, and she laughed, again.

"So, really, how did you—" I began.

"How did I know that you were a Cutter?"

I nodded. It was all I really could do.

She shrugged. "I can tell the signs. The fact that you were bleeding so profusely defiantly was a big one."

I rubbed the back of my head, slightly embarrassed. "Oh, yeah."

She rolled her eyes and slid from the counter and made her way towards me. "You know that there's nothing wrong with it, right?"

I instinctively leaned away from her as she slid closer. "What?

"Embracing the pain, taking control of it, making it your own. You know that there's nothing wrong with it—nothing wrong with you, right?"

She was right in front of me, her fingers tracing seductive lines across my chest as she looked up at me through her lashes. My heart was racing in my chest and my pants were suddenly feeling a bit too tight, and the only thing that I could really focus on was those eyes and her hands that were moving in almost hypnotizing patterns. "I…I—"

"There is nothing wrong with taking Control of things in your life," she continued, "The way that I see it," her face moved closer. I could feel her breath on my neck, "you can either let things happen To you," he voice was in my ear, breathy, teasing, "or you can Make things happen. That's all you're doing by cutting, Dib. You're Making things happen. You're in control."

"I…uh…but you can't exactly say that it's normal." I answered, still trying to ignore her come-ons.

She smirked and moved away from me, "Neither is being best friends with an alien, or having a father who can shoot electricity from his hands, but you don't seem to mind that."

I grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, "How do you know about that?"

"I know a lot of things." she replied, gently disengaging my hand from her bicep.

"But—"

Before I could say another word, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Stephanie picked my shirt up from where it had been drying, inspected the sleeve, and then tossed it to me. I caught it with one arm up against my chest.

"Feels dry enough. You should be getting to class. Wouldn't want anyone to suspect anything, now would you?" Again with that coy smile. I nodded dumbly and slid from the counter, pulling my shirt over my head. I could feel Stephanie's eyes on me as I picked up my bag and moved to leave.

"Hold on a sec." She said. Digging into her bag she pulled out a red pen and grabbed my hand. On it she wrote an address. I looked at her, questioningly. "Go there, tonight. There are other people there who understand about taking control. I'll be there around midnight."

"I'm not sure—"

"Tonight." She closed my hand around her writing, her fingers lingering a little longer than necessary before moving away, entirely.

As she bent over to pick up her bag, then, I noticed strange markings on her back. The bottom of a larger picture.

"Is that a tattoo?" I asked.

She straightened up, and smiled, softly, "I suppose you could call it that. I think of it more as a brand." She turned her back towards me and lifted up her shirt, so that I could see the design. Long wings were drawn, going from her shoulders to right below the line of her jeans. They looked to me made of metal, and were coloured red at the edges. Satisfied that I had had a good enough look, she replaced her shirt and shouldered her bag.

"Remember, Dib. Tonight." she stated, moving towards the door.

"Wait, what does your tattoo mean?" I asked, not able to staunch my curiosity.

She looked back over her shoulder at me, one hand positioned on the doorknob. "I am the original Fallen Angel." She answered, and then was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts, an address, and a challenge to 'take control'.

* * *

…LOGGING IN…

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

WELCOME BACK, MOTHMAN. YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO READ IT?

PLEASE WAIT…CONNECTING…

From: redeemer at questionsleep com

To: wanttobeleive at swolleneyeballs net

Subject: URGENT!

Dib,

I'm not sure if this is going to get to you in time, or even get to you at all. There is some outside influence in the Test. I know you don't know what I'm talking about, but it is imperative that you Do Not

CONNECTION INTERRUPTED…PLEASE WAIT…

…..

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. MESSAGE WAS SAVED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO RETURN?

PLEASE WAIT…

From: bigdix at pen15 com

To: wanttobeleive at swolleneyeballs net

Subject: URGENT

Do you want to see hot, barely legal girls having the time of their lives?

Of Course You DO!

Click here for our Free Trial!

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DELETE?

PLEASE WAIT….

….THANK YOU.

LOGGING OUT…..

…GOODBYE.

I sat back in my computer chair, and rubbed my eyes behind my glasses. Just another porn mail. I could have sworn…

…nah.

* * *

I stood in front of the address that Stephanie had given me. It in a more run down side of town, in an ally. The spray painted sign over the door read "Fallen", and from where I stood, I could hear the vibrating baseline of angry metal rock.

I took a deep breath, steeling every nerve that I had, and reached for the handle of the door.

"Dib, wait!" A voice from behind me made me hesitate. I turned to face a girl a few years older than me. In the darkness it was hard to really make out her features, aside from her white tank top. The dim light from the entrance to the club reflected on her glasses.

"Do I know you?"

She ran a hand through her hair, "Yes, well…no, not really. Look, I don't have much time to explain, hell, I'm lucky I was even able to reach you."

I was starting to get a bit impatient, "What are you talking about?"

"I know this sounds crazy, but you just can not go in there."

"What?"

"Listen to me: you are in great danger, Dib. There are forces at work here that we weren't expecting. At least not at this stage. Your Soul—"

"Oh, so that's what this is all about." I interrupted, throwing my hands in the air in frustration, "What is it with you people? I. Am. Not. Interested. Take it from me, you can't save the world, lady, and even if you could, my Soul is the least of your concerns."

"Dib, you don't understand—" her hand reached out and grabbed my injured arm. I gasped through my teeth and pulled away, knocking her backwards a little harder than a meant. She frowned, but said nothing about it.

"Look. Just stop, alright? I don't know who you are or how you know my name, but I'm going to go in the club, now. Alright?" I turned away and opened the door. Pausing for a moment, I turned back, slightly, "I'd get home if I were you. This isn't a great neighborhood."

I allowed the door to shut behind me.

* * *

Every one of my senses was assaulted by the atmosphere of the club. The music was loud and angry, yet seductive at the same time, making me want to fight and fuck all in the same thought. The lighting was dim, the walls black. Red velvet and gauze hung from the walls, and covered the couches and chairs that were placed randomly and haphazardly around the lounge area. On the floor people were dancing, their bodies weaving to the music, hands and arms and legs blurring into one mass. The air tasted of alcohol, sweat, and cigarettes, and I could feel my lungs protesting as I breathed in a deeply as possible. Something was causing my heart to beat a million miles an hour. Something was making my blood rush with adrenalin. I didn't know exactly what this something was, but what I did know was I liked it.

I found Stephanie in a shadowy corner, sitting perched on the bar, staring at the crowd, one long leg crossed over the other. It looked like her leather pants were painted on, and she wore a tight black halter that left not only her back exposed to show off her tattooed bloody wings, but her arms showing as well, the scars and cuts seeming to glow in the faint light. Seeing her there made me feel something that I had never experienced before—at least not to that extreme. Something primitive and dark and angry.

I didn't know exactly what this something was.

But I knew that I liked it.

As I approached her, she turned to me, a seductive smile on her lips.

"You're late." she stated, shouting above the music.

I shrugged, "I got held up. Worried I wasn't going to come?"

She shook her head, "No, I knew you would come. I was just stating that you're late. Now you owe me."

I laughed, intrigued, "Really? Do I, now? And what, exactly, is it that I owe you?"

Her grin grew wider, more dangerous. "A dance."

Instantly my swagger disappeared, replaced by familiar uncertainty, "I…I don't think—"

She laughed, hopping down from the bar. Leaning close, so that she didn't have to shout, she whispered, "Don't think, Dib. Just do."

Taking advantage of the daze that occurred as a result of her breath on my ear, she grabbed my hand, pulling me with her onto the floor. Once there, we made our way to the center of the writhing mass of bodies, and she put her arms around my neck, pressing her body tightly against mine as she swayed slowly and seductively to the beat.

Not really knowing what to do at first, I followed her lead, allowing her to guide my hips with her own. After a while, it became easier, and I just allowed myself to close my eyes and become lost in the music.

_Turn her over  
A candle is lit, I see through her  
Blow it out and save all her ashes for me  
Curse me sold her  
The poison that runs it's course through her  
Pale white skin with strawberry gashes all over all over_

Her hands were moving over my back, drawing pictures that I could only imagine the meaning to. She pulled me tighter against her, leaning her head into my shoulder, her breath on my neck.

_Watch me fault her  
You're living like a disaster  
She said kill me faster  
with strawberry gashes all over  
Called her over  
and asked her if she was improving  
She said "feels fine" it's wonderful wonderful here_

"See, this isn't so bad, is it?" She whispered against my neck.

I suppressed a shudder, and tried to focus on anything but the feeling of her body. "No, it isn't" I managed.

I could feel her smile. That smile was going to drive me crazy, "Are you having fun?"

I nodded, losing myself again to the music and the beat and her body and the warmth of those surrounding me.

_Hex me told her  
I dreamt of a devil that knew her  
Pale white skin with strawberry gashes all over all over  
Watch me fault her  
You're living like a disaster  
She said kill me faster  
with strawberry gashes all over_

There was something that had been nagging at the back of my mind since that afternoon. I figured that now as good of a time as any to bring it up.

"Why me?" I asked.

She chuckled and pulled me closer, "Why not?"

"Is that really all?"

"No. Lets see…why you…because you're Different, Dib. You understand. You Feel. And besides, who better to be on at the side of the original Fallen Angel, than the Savior of the Earth? The irony is delicious, don't you think?" She punctuated her statement by slowly licking the side of my neck. This shudder I could not repress. Nor did I really even want to, anymore.

_I lay quiet  
waiting for her voice to say  
"Some things you lose and some things you just give away"  
Scold me failed her  
If only I'd held on tighter to her  
Pale white skin that twisted and withered away from me away from me_

I closed my eyes, "I'm not the Savior of anything, Stephanie. That was just a game I played as a kid."

"Really, now, is it?" she murmured.

"Yes, it is. I can't save the world. Hell, I can't even save myself."

"How do you know that you're not?"

"What?"

"How do you know that you're not saving yourself? Really? What do you think you're doing by Cutting, Dib? What do you think that it really means to embrace that pain? To take control? Where do you think you would be without it?"

I thought for a moment. It did make a twisted kind of sense.

"But that can't be all there is, Stephanie. Balancing out the emotional with the physical…that can't be all there is."

"Balance is the axis on which the world turns, Dib." She answered.

We were quiet for a moment.

_Watch me lose her  
It's almost like losing myself  
Give her my soul  
and let them take somebody else get away from me  
Watch me fault her  
You're living like a disaster  
She said kill me faster  
with strawberry gashes all over all over me_

"Mmm… I love that line." the girl in my arms stated.

"Which one?"

"'Give her my soul and let them take somebody else." She answered. She moved her head from my shoulder, and looked me in the eye. "Would you do that, Dib?" she asked.

I was confused, my mind muddled by the smell and the feel of her and her eyes, those swirling green pools that seemed to glow the way her scars did. "Do what?"

She leaned in close, her lips brushing mine as she answered, "Give me your soul?"

I froze. For some reason things seemed to click into place. The phone call, the phantom email, the girl in the hall. Something was horribly wrong, something was out of place, something was off, and if I could only put my finger on it….The girl. I needed to talk to that girl.

I pushed myself away from Stephanie, disengaging myself from her embrace the moment before her lips fully descended on mine. She gaped at me, her expression turning from shock to anger in a split second.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

Away from her arms, I was able to think a little clearer. My mind raced as it searched for an excuse, "I—look, Steph, I have to do. I'll—" I didn't even finish my sentence. I needed to get out of there, and I needed to do it fast. I turned pushed my way thought the crowd, towards the door. Everything about that place was Wrong, everything about it Off. I was no longer intoxicated by its aura, instead it made the fine hairs on the back of my neck begin to crawl and the wounds on my arm itch.

Finally making it to the door, I burst back out into the ally, scanning the shadows for the girl in white. Not seeing her, I made my way towards the street. As I neared the mouth of the ally, I could hear a voice. A one sided conversation—someone speaking into a cell phone.

"—I tried, but you know how stubborn Dib can be."

My name! That voice! I broke out into a run. The girl was standing on the corner, under the street lamp. Her back was towards me and she held a small cell phone to her ear.

"I know, J, but really, what can I do at this point? I can't get in there, I already tried and got a rather nasty burn for my—" Her words interrupted as I grabbed her arm and spun her towards me. Her eyes widened in surprise and fear for a moment, and then softened as she recognized me. I could hear the a tiny voice from her phone calling her name. "It's alright, J, I'm here. Look, I have to go. Things…something just changed. I think…I'll call you later." The small voice continued to protest as she lowered the phone from her ear and snapped it closed.

"What is going on?" I demanded, cutting straight to the point.

"You left the club." she stated, ignoring my question.

My hand tightened its grip on her arm slightly in frustration before I let go. "You're powers of observation are astounding. Now tell me, what the hell is going on and why is everyone so obsessed with my Soul all of a sudden?"

Her eyes widened behind her glasses and it was her turn now to grab my arm, "What do you mean, what's in the interest in your Soul? Who asked you about your Soul aside from me?"

I yanked my arm from her grasp, "Stephanie. The girl that I was coming here to meet. She asked…there was this song playing and this line she liked and she asked if I would give her my soul."

"And?" I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. It was almost like Stephanie's gaze in that it was unnerving and dangerous, almost as if, if I said the wrong thing, there would be no hesitation on her part in breaking my neck. However, the difference was that this girl's eyes held fear. And for some reason I was able to sense that she wasn't afraid for herself. I wondered why.

"And…and for some reason it reminded me of you and all these weird things that have been happening lately and I wanted answers more than making out with some chick I just met, today."

She broke eye contact and chuckled, running her hand through her hair, "Well, in some round about way, there's the winning answer. Looks like you passed, you get to move on, though I'm worried about what exactly is going to happen to you next."

I grabbed her arm, again, my frustration growing, "What the hell are you talking about? That isn't an answer."

She pulled away, again. I was surprised to see angry tears shimmering on her cheeks in the lamp light, "I can't _give_ you any answered, Dib, no matter how much I want to. That's cheating, and God knows that J and I have made enough changes in the system here to keep your Soul in one piece! I can't _do_ anymore for you! I wish I could, but I _can't_. All I can do is send you on your way and pray that I'll be able to slip into the next Test before whatever the hell is interfering puts up another shield. It took almost all my energy to get through the one on _this_ Reality!"

"You're not making any sense!" I shouted, "Why can't you tell me what is going on?"

The girl glared at me for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. She raised on hand, her fingers curled into something that wasn't quite a fist. "We don't have time, Dib. I'm sorry, but you have to go."

"What are you—"

"I'm sorry." She repeated.

And snapped.

* * *

A/n: Ok, so that took a bit of a different route than I was expecting, although it didn't come out too badly, considering. Personally, I don't think that this is my most well written chapter, but seeing as I've had to force myself to sit here and write it and focus, I guess that's to be expected. But then, I could just be a perfectionist.

I think that there are three references in here.

The song that I used was "Strawberry Gashes" by Jack Off Jill.

If anyone cares, and hasn't noticed, yet, I have another story up called "My Life Is Hell". As much as a shameless plug as that sounds, I really only mention it because the idea started out as how was I going to end This story, but I decided to make it a one shot of it's own and end this one on a bit more…upbeat light. Tho I still Do like the idea of Dib fighting so hard to keep his soul from going to hell, not even realizing that it was already there. Whoops.

Again, thank you all so much for your support and patience. I'm going to try and get back into the swing of things, it's just that…ugh. I can't even really get into it. This past month has been sheer Hell for me. Things are starting to taper off and become at least tolerable, but for a while there…you can tell that things are bad when I can't even lose myself in my writing. Bleh.

But yeah, so thanks everyone, you are all wonderful.

My eyes burn. Wow….lookit that. It's 419am.

As always, r and r, please.

j


	9. Upgrade

A/n: First and foremost, thank you, thank you for all your kind reviews. Your words and the Honestly within them, to the few of you who told me "this isn't your greatest, but…" mean a lot to me. Thank you so much.

This was, by far, the hardest chapter to write, hence why it took so long to get up. I'm sorry, everyone. Seeing as how I have a very good picture in my head of the next few (and final, I'm thinking three more after this, not including a final epilogue/author's note like I did with FPL) chapters, I figure I should have this whole epic done within the next month or so. But don't quote me on that. Really.

References:

Talking Bathroom Stall: Daria, of course.

Dib's email address being at "Question sleep (dot) com.": This, if no one knew, is the address of Jhonen's site (and consequently where his new email is hosted). The site under construction, but is still rather cool to look at so far.

There was another reference, I thought, but I really can't figure out what it was, now. Strange.

I know I said that this was originally going to be a slash chapter, but I changed my mind from my original idea, and therefore, killed the slash. Sorry to disappoint. I guarantee that this chapter is better than the one I had planned tho, 300.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own IZ.

* * *

You Only Live Twice

Part Eight: In which Dib gets an upgrade.

_Main Entry: **en·vy**  
Pronunciation: __'en-vE__  
Function: noun  
Inflected Form(s): plural **envies**  
Etymology: Middle English envie, from Old French, from Latin invidia, from invidus envious, from invidEre to look askance at, envy, from in- + vidEre to see -- more at WIT  
**1** painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage  
**2** obsolete **: MALICE**  
**3** an object of envious notice or feeling his new car made him the envy of his friends _

The park was unseasonably cold that night, whether from the storm that had just passed, or, because there was no moon, it just seemed that way. A wind a bit too forceful to be called a breeze pulled and tore at my trench as I walked the familiar shortcut home. Home. What a strange thing to be calling my father's house. Finals were over, and I decided to take advantage of the small break before the next semester by visiting my father and sister, although I ended up spending most of my first few days back either in my room—perfectly preserved the way I had left it, not so much out of any sort of remembrance, but more so out of lack of thought to do anything else with it—or out wandering around the town, taking in the sights that I hadn't even realized that I had almost forgotten. While two years wasn't really that long of a time to be away from the city one grew up in, considering the way I had been treated and the events that had taken place, it wasn't that big of a surprise that I really wanted nothing to do with it once I was gone.

As I walked through the gate that marked the exit to the park, I paused, looking down the street in the opposite direction from home. I had deliberately kept myself from going that direction the past few days, not wanting to accept or acknowledge what lie in wait there. The House. That tall, green and magenta structure that had haunted my dreams in the six months since I had left. Its occupant and I had never been on good terms—we were mortal enemies, after all—but he still lingered in my thoughts; the unnatural obsession that he was. Zim. That stupid alien that had walked into my sixth grade classroom and turned my entire life upside down. For seven years, all I could think about was him. His mannerisms, so foreign, but eventually, so familiar, his skin tone, his eyes, the way his skin seemed to have no pores, the fact that what made up eighty present of my body was the one substance that could harm him the most, how what made him, well, him, was not the brain in his skull, but rather the one contained in the mechanics of his backpack, everything, everything about him I would observe and record and obsess over till I eventually had to get a prescription sleep aid to turn off my brain for eight hours a night so that I didn't kill myself by shear exhaustion. I had deliberately kept myself from walking down that street so as to not indulge in that obsession any longer. I was a new person, now: older, different, more mature, more…_normal_. I had left all my paranormal information at my father's house when I moved out and that was where it was going to stay—safely locked in a box under my bed and behind the keypad locked doors of my closet that I had almost, but not quite, forgotten the combination to. I was my own person now, the Dib that Could Have Been had I decided to pursue Real Science like my dad requested. I had friends, a good job at the campus paper, and peers who _respected_ me. What did I need those old files for? What did I need that old obsession for? I was my own man, now.

But still, even as I was reminding myself of how much I didn't need to go see if The House was there for myself, I noticed that my body had already turned in that direction, my feet already moving me down to that cul-de-sac towards…what, I wondered? Even before I had left, Zim's attempts at World Domination had become few and far between, and rather half-assed at that, perhaps he had just packed up and gone back to Irk and his Tallests to eat snacks until he exploded the way his insane little robot minion had kept threatening to do. Yeah, that was it—The House probably wasn't even going to be there when I got to the end of the street, Zim had probably left a long time…

But there it was, just as I remembered it: hideous and glowing like some sort of holy satire of normality. I felt a strange, but nostalgic twinge as I looked up at it, and found myself starting to walk towards the front gate, my mind coming alive all at once to remember the easiest way to circum navigate the gnome field.

I was so enthralled with my thoughts that I almost didn't notice the dark figure that was sneaking its way past the lawn gnomes much the way I had been planning to. My curiosity perked, I hid behind a neighbor's trashcan to watch what would come about.

The figure moved quickly and efficiently through the gnome field, making use of the blind spots that I had discovered a year or so into Zim and I's "relationship". I could see that the figure was male and cloaked in a black trench much like my own, but those were the only details I could make out as he made it past the gnomes to the front door. Slowly, carefully, he slid something into the crack of the door (I assumed it was a credit card or something similar) and then turned the knob, allowing himself access to the base. I had to admit I was impressed, yet something was tugging at me, deep inside. Some hot white flash of…something. I couldn't really place my finger on the emotion, but it was there, none the less.

A loud explosion distracted me from my musings and I looked up to see the figure bolt from the house, narrowly dodging the gnomes' lasers as he leapt past them to the safety of the sidewalk beyond the gate. There he stood, panting and heaving, his hands on his knees to help him better catch his breath, staring at the front door of the house, which had been left wide open. Slowly it swung shut again, as if pushed gently by an unseen hand, and the street resumed its previous quiet state.

I stood and stretched my legs, shaking out the numbness that had crept into them from the time spent behind the trashcan, and approached the figure, who had now apparently caught his breath. He was so enwrapped in his staring at the house that he didn't hear me approach, or react when I cleared my throat in an attempt to make him notice me behind him. Taking the initiative, I reached out and gently placed a hand on the stranger's shoulder, to which he finally reacted, spinning around to face me, his body poised for combat. I retracted my hand quickly, raising both in a gesture of surrender, showing him that I meant him no harm. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, waiting for me to speak first.

This close I could see that he was a boy slightly younger than I—17 or so—though with his slight build he could be older and I didn't realize it, with unruly blond hair and square framed glasses. If he were the age I thought him to be, he was probably in my sister's class, and for that I pitied him.

"Hi." I greeted. It was stupid, but I really couldn't think of much else to say at this point.

"Hey," he replied, more of a grunt than an actual acknowledgment. It was obvious that he wasn't used to people willingly speaking to him. I winced, inwardly, knowing how he felt.

I nodded towards the house, "I take it Zim still lives here."

The boy's eyes widened at my arch nemesis' name, and I could almost see the inward struggle behind his eyes. Should he reveal to me what he so obviously knew? Should he take the risk, knowing that, more than likely, his revelation would be met with ridicule? He seemed to come to a decision, because, looking me straight in the eye, he answered, "He's an alien, you know."

I nodded, a small grin forming on my face, "Yes, I know."

The boy's eye's widened, again, this time with obvious pleasure, but it dimmed, quickly, fearing that I was playing a joke on him, "Yeah, sure. Like you actually believe me."

"No, I do! Really!" I insisted. I sighed and held out my hand, "I'm Dib. I used to live around here. I went to school Zim. I knew him for what he was the moment he walked in the classroom."

The boy looked at my hand, still wary. "What did he call you?" he asked.

To anyone else, this would seem like an odd question, but I knew the answer and what it would prove without even thinking. "Dib-Stink." I answered, inwardly chuckling at the memory of the old insult/nickname.

The smile once again brightened the boy's face, and he took my hand, shaking it. His grip was surprisingly hard, "I'm Stan."

I had to laugh, "Stan-Stink?"

He shrugged, and I laughed again, but there it was, again: that white hot flash of emotion. This time there was a half formed thought attached to it. Something about the sharing of the nickname; something I had thought was just for me. While Zim had referred to all humans as "stink beasts", the insult attached to my name was something that had been reserved just for me. At least up until now. I halfway recognized the feeling as something akin to jealousy, but that was just silly. There was no way I could be jealous because my enemy had taken to calling someone else by my "specially reserved" insult…right?

I decided to take my mind off of that train of thought and turned my attention back to Stan. "So how long have you known?" I asked.

"Since we moved in last month. I saw him walking his dog-robot thing, and it just…clicked."

I nodded, understanding, but something was nagging at me. "You've only been here for a month? And you already figured out how to get past the gnome field?"

Stan shrugged, "Yeah. How long did it take you?"

That feeling, again. I decided to change the subject. "You at the high school?"

Stan's eyes narrowed, again, behind his glasses, a bit off guard at the sudden subject change, but it passed, quickly. "Yeah. I'm a senior."

"You know a girl named Gaz?"

The boy shuddered, "Yeah. She's scary."

I had to laugh. That was putting it mildly, "She's my sister."

"I'm sorry." Stan replied, his voice full of sincerity.

"So am I."

We both had to laugh. After a few moments, Stan looked at his watch, "I have to go. Homework and stuff. Maybe we could meet, tomorrow, say around 4? Bloaty's? Exchange information?"

I nodded, "Sure. Though I researched Zim for seven years, almost. I'm sure I have a bit more than you."

A smug smirk formed on the boy's face. Something about it made me uneasy, and for some reason, want to strangle him, "Don't be so sure." He answered, "I'll see you at Bloaty's around four." Then, waving his hand in parting, he turned and starting walking down the street, away from the cul-de-sac.

I watched him go for a few seconds and then turned back towards the house. Looking up towards the upper level window, I thought I saw the curtain parted, and a pair of reddish eyes looking out. For some reason I found myself lifting my hand in greeting, and the curtains closed, again. Puzzled by my own actions and the reaction to them, I stood a few seconds longer, and then turned, making my way back towards the road that would take me home.

oooIIIooo

I was greeted, as I walked in the door, by angry rock music being played just a little too loud. I covered my ears, and shot a glare towards the couch, where my sister sat with another girl, both enthralled with whatever hackem-slashem videogame they were playing. Making my way to the stereo, I cringed as I removed one hand from my ear to turn down the music to a tolerable level.

No sooner had my hand left the dial, did the game pause and I noticed Gaz's eyes from over the back of the couch, glaring at me, angrily.

"What did you do that for!" She demanded, her voice the angry monotone it had always been.

"You're going to burst your eardrums." I answered, turning my back on her and starting to make my way to the kitchen.

"You know I'm just going to turn it back up, so why even bother?" Gaz's voice followed me. I shrugged.

I could hear my sister start to get up from the couch to turn back up the stereo, more out of spite than for aural stimulation at this point, when I heard an unfamiliar, but somehow recognizable voice say, "Gaz, don't worry about it."

I turned, a bit surprised that, not only had someone stood up to my sister, but, by the lack of loud noise, it seemed she had listened. Looking towards the couch I could see that the other girl—one about my age with long brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses—had her hand on my sister's shoulder. Gaz glared at her, menacingly, but the stranger only raised her eyebrows in some sort of hidden meaning. After a second or so of battling wills, Gaz, amazingly enough, grumbled, "Oh, fine." and settled back onto the couch, unpausing the game. The other girl turned back towards the tv as well. I shook my head, and made my way back to the kitchen as I originally planned.

Weird.

oooIIIooo

There was something in my bed that night. Some small, microscopic thing that made the sheets feel too itchy and my skin feel too tight and made it impossible for me to get comfy and sleep. My mind kept wandering, in between fits of agitation, towards earlier that afternoon when I had run into that Stan kid, and the figure at the window. I had seen the reflection of red eyes in the glass, but, if the figure had been Zim, why didn't he acknowledge me? We would never be friends, but even as enemies, there is a honorable sense of duty and respect that, once seeing I was that close to his base, should have sent him flying out the door to personally and immediately kick me off the premises.

Unless he didn't _care _that I was that close to his base…but no, that was just silly. The only way he wouldn't care that I was around his base would be if he didn't see me as a threat, so that couldn't possibly be it. Just because I had been gone for two years didn't mean I was any less of a threat to him than I was before…or any less than that kid, Stan, for that matter.

No, I decided, turning my pillow over so that I could lie on the cool side, hoping that would calm my thoughts—no, the only logical reason was that it wasn't even Zim at the window. It was probably Gir locked on duty mode or something.

Yeah, that was it.

oooIIIooo

When I went downstairs the next morning I was greeted by the back of a strange, but familiar figure rooting through the fridge. As the stranger straightened back up, I could see that it was the girl that had been playing video games with Gaz the night before. She must have stayed over.

She noticed me in the doorway and paused, her fingers locked in the motion of opening the juice container. Her eyes widened for a moment, almost as if she had been doing something wrong, but more likely in surprise.

"Catch you trying to drink from the carton?" I asked, an amused grin on my face. She looked confused for a moment, so I decided to clarify, "You look like I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar."

She smiled, relaxing a bit, and shrugged, "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up this early. You startled me." She closed the door to the fridge and moved to the cupboard where the glasses were kept, "Though I really don't see the point in dirtying glasses unless necessary," she poured some of the orange liquid into a glass, and closed the carton, "though if it makes you feel any better, it's my own juice."

"I was wondering where it came from. Mostly my sister just drinks pop for breakfast—"

"—And lunch, and dinner," the girl finished for me, grinning good naturedly. She hopped up only the counter behind her, and picked up the carton of juice, offering it to me, "Want some? Backwash free, I swear."

I had to laugh, and took the carton from her, "I live in a dorm room with three other guys, I'll take girl backwash over theirs, any day." I poured myself a glass and then replaced the carton in the fridge.

Leaning against the sink as I drank, I asked, "So I'm guessing that you're friends with my sister?"

She shrugged, sipping her juice, "She and I post on the same gaming forum. We've been passing emails and such back and forth for a while, and I had to come into town for business, so she offered up the spare room so I didn't have to worry about hotel costs and such."

I was taken aback. Gaz? Do something nice for someone? "Doesn't sound like the Gaz I know." I stated.

Again, the girl shrugged, seeming a bit uneasy, "The business that I'm here for has to do with someo…something close to her. Once I explained the situation, she was more than happy to help." She looked me in the eye then, "She does care about things other than videogames, you know."

"Couldn't tell." I scoffed.

One of those awkward silences descended, and she and I both focused on out respective glasses of juice.

"So what type of business are you on?"

Again that uneasy smile as she answered, "Top-secret."

I had to chuckle, "So you're a secret agent?"

Her demeanor was calm, but her eyes reflected something completely different as she laughed, "Just call me James Bond."

I then realized something, "What is your name, anyhow?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry about that," she answered, "I'm Error."

"Error? Odd name."

"It's a nickname, really, but it's what everyone here calls me." she clarified.

"A nickname, huh? So what's your real name?"

She hopped down from the counter, and rinsed her glass in the sink, seeming to ignore me. I was about to repeat my question when she walked past me, pausing at the doorway to look over her shoulder, "Top secret."

With that she was gone, up the stairs to the extra bedroom, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

oooIIIooo

It is a well kept, and well guarded secret of mine that I happen to abhor pizza. Oh, I liked it as a kid—I don't think that there's a ten year old in existence who doesn't think that grease topped with cheese and loaded with more grease is just the greatest thing in the world. I knew some kids in my school who had tried to convince the school board that pepperoni and mushroom pizza was the optimum healthy lunch because it contained something of each of the five food groups (allowing that tomatoes are a fruit, that is). Their request was, of course, denied because creamed corn and mayonnaise was decidedly cheaper, but the effort was there.

But at any rate, while, like any normal child I grew up in love with the stuff, come adolescence, after eating it just about every day (one of the hazards of living with my sister, who went through phases of wanting to eat nothing else), I really couldn't stand the stuff, which didn't make dating (Bloaty's was the number one after movie hot spot) or later, college (a local restaurant offered a "Boxcar Willy" special: a slice roughly the size of your head and a Pabst beer for three-fifty—cheapest meal in town) any easier.

So while I didn't even think of it at the time, Bloaty's Pizza Hog was possibly one of the most uncomfortable places I could have agreed to meet Stan. However, not one to break my promise, and not knowing how to get in contact with him to change the meeting place, I had to go.

I almost vomited from the smell the minute I walked in the door to the restaurant, and in the five minutes it took me to order a pop and find a booth, I already felt like I needed to take three showers to get rid of the feel of grease on my skin. All I could think was that this kid better have discovered something interesting that I didn't already know about Zim, or that he at least had better be damned grateful for the information that I was bound to be providing him. That, and that, next time, I was going to choose the battlefield. Wait…battlefield? Was I really thinking this as a battle? I mean, sure, the kid had me at a disadvantage by picking, to me, the most disgusting place in town to meet at, but he was my ally, wasn't he? He was the first and only person to believe me and be interested in Zim's alien-ness, so of course he was…he had to be…right?

My thoughts were interrupted as Stan slid into the booth seat across from me. I had been so wrapped up in my own inner argument that I hadn't noticed him come in. That smug smirk played on his lips as I met his cold blue gaze.

"Sorry I'm a bit late, got held up." He explained.

I shrugged, trying to not make my discomfort obvious. "No biggy, I haven't been here for very long."

He nodded, but that stupid grin didn't leave his face as he pulled out his laptop and sat it on the table in front of him. As he turned it on, I did the same, opening my computer's screen and typing in the correct password. Looking up, again, I noticed him staring at me, obviously waiting for me to be finished, his computer already logged in and ready. He had a faster processor than me. Go figure.

"Ready?" he asked. I was beginning to hate that stupid grin of his. I had to keep my hand from forming a fist under the table.

"So, how do we go about this?" I asked him, trying to ignore my irritation.

"Well, I think that the best way would to be for you to go through my computer and me to go through yours to see what the other has by way of information." he responded.

I was appalled. This kid? Go through my files? He had to be kidding me! "You're joking, right? There's no way I'm letting you just peruse through my hard drive!"

"Why not?"

"Well, to start with, I have a lot of important information on here that I'd rather other people not pick through if I can help it, and besides, you've been studying Zim for a month. I did it for seven years. I think that it would be a _little _unfair for me to just _give _you all of my hard work, when I don't even know if I'm going to benefit from what you have."

"You think that I'm going to provide you with faulty information."

"I never said that, I'm just not accustomed to trusting people right from off the start."

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, then, "Well, I'm not really that eager to trust you, either, you know. I mean, how do I know that you're not some asshole who's going to make fun of me like everyone else has?"

I felt a pang of guilt and pity for the kid. As much as it bothered me how alike we were, I never really stopped to think about what that meant for the kid's social life. This was as big a thing for him to be trusting me with his findings as it was for me to be trusting him—perhaps more so, considering I had outgrown years ago that innate teenage need for approval from my peers, whereas he obviously hadn't. I sighed and relented.

"Alright. We'll trade computers. Just…let me go through and password some things. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that some things I like to keep private and you may accidentally stumble into my journal or something if you use the search options. A lot of my earlier entries mention him. You understand."

Stan nodded, and shrugged, his eyes softening, again, but still retaining a bit of irritation, "Yeah, I guess that's a good idea. I should do the same."

Agreed, we both took the next few moments to password protect anything worth protecting in our notebooks. Again, I looked up to find him staring, waiting for me to finish. Either he had less to protect, was faster than me (which I doubted), or had already thought to protect his computer before I had even mentioned it. The thought that he might have been one step ahead of me made my stomach form a strange little knot, but I ignored it, choosing to believe the first option rather than acknowledge…whatever it was that I wasn't acknowledging.

"Ready?" He asked, that stupid grin seeming to get larger and stupider by the second.

"Born that way." I answered, meeting his smug smirk with one of my own as we pushed our respective laptops across the table to each other.

It was all I could do to keep the emotion from my face as I looked through Stan's notes. These were incredible! House and lab maps, ship schematic, Gir blueprints…it had taken me _years _to get this much information, and he was able to do it in a _month_? What gives? There was no way that he could have _possibly_ gotten this much information in such a short period of time! I snuck a glance at him over the top of the screen. He seemed to be intently searching through my notes, but every so often his irritating smirk would widen as if amused by something, and I could feel that white hot emotion crawling up my throat from the bit of my stomach. Dare he laugh at my life's work? How could he laugh at _me_ while _his_ notes were so far under mine? I mean, sure, he had discovered a lot in the short time he had been here, but that was _nothing_ compared to—

"This is some good stuff." Stan announced, closing the top of my laptop. Startled, I did the same. "Sorry my notes aren't as good, but—"

"Don't be ridiculous, these notes are awesome!" I stated, forcing my emotion down and plastering a smile on my face. I took a large gulp from my pop, washing out the bad taste in my mouth, "Really, I'm amazed at how much you've observed in such a short time period."

Stan's grin grew wider at my praise, and I could tell that he was slightly embarrassed, not used to anyone making any sort of fuss over him. Something about that made me feel bad about thinking poorly of him and I internally decided to make it up to him.

"Hey, I have an idea: why don't we team up? With both of us, there's no way that we can't stop Zim!"

"I was just about to suggest that!" Stan answered, "All we need is a fool proof plan."

I nodded, encouraged by his enthusiasm. Before we could figure out what the "fool proof plan" would be, however, Stan's watch beeped. He glanced at it, and then turned off the alarm, shrugging.

"I have to go get ready for work, now. Why don't we meet again, tomorrow—that will give both of us some time to think of a plan and all."

I nodded, "Sounds good to me."

He stood and gathered his laptop from the table, "Alright, then. I'll meet you tomorrow afternoon at the skool. I have a late club meeting, so it will be easier to just meet up there, around five, alright? Bye!" And he was gone, before I could get in another word, edgewise.

The skool. Another place I would rather not go. It was almost as if he were choosing meeting places that he knew would make me uncomfortable and on-guard. But, no, that couldn't be the case. I was just being paranoid, I told myself. But still, even as I gathered up my computer and finally made my way out the door of the grimy restaurant, the uneasy feeling wouldn't leave. There was something about that kid; something that I couldn't really put my finger on, but was there all the same; something that made me both want to throttle him and run away all at the same time.

Ah well, whatever it was, it couldn't be _that_ important.

oooIIIooo

I found myself, again, in front of Zim's house without even realizing it. There was a faint movement at the window, but I turned away, berating myself on my stupidity at still being bothered by the lack of response my appearance here the day before had caused, before turning back again, and sneaking through the gnome field to the front door without even realizing what I was doing. Hesitantly I knocked, and, receiving no answer, reached for the door knob to just let myself in, when the door opened of its own accord, and I found myself face to face (or rather, navel to face, seeing as how the tiny green menace hadn't grown at all since elementary school) with Zim.

"Yes, yes, what—" he began, before stopping in mid sentence to glare up at my face, "Oh, it's just _you_." he grumbled, "Well, what do you want? I'm very busy trying to take over the world, here."

I was taken aback. This was not the way that I had imagined myself greeted. "Um, hey, Zim," I answered, not even knowing what I was doing here, anymore, "surprised to see me?"

The alien shrugged, and then let go of the doorknob, crossing his skinny arms across his chest, "Actually, I am, a little. I thought you had gone and gotten yourself killed or something when you stopped barging in and foiling my plans."

I chuckled, "You thought I was dead? I'm touched by your concern," Zim rolled his contacted eyes at my sarcasm, "but no, I was just at college, You know that." I explained.

The alien shrugged, again, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I've been busy lately, with that _Stan_ kid nosing around here all the time." His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a whole new level of venom as he said my—his—new rival's name. Somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice reminded me that that was the way he used to say _my_ name, but I pushed it away.

"He giving you trouble?"

Again, that glare, "You have no idea." He glanced around me, as if expecting Stan to jump out and ambush him at any moment.

Something about Zim's actions bothered me. His entire demeanor changed while talking about Stan, becoming once again the irritated and paranoid alien that I knew while growing up, while, conversely, he was standing here talking to me as calmly as if we were discussing the weather. Like we weren't even enemies. Like we never were to begin with.

"Surely he can't be as bad as I was," I joked, trying to get him to admit…what, I wondered? Why was I even bothering to worry or care about all this?

Zim looked up at me with an expression of sarcastic amusement, "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Dib." he answered, and I felt my stomach drop into my feet and the blood rise to my face in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. So Stan was that much more of a threat to him than I used to be, was he? Well, _fine_! What did I care what Zim thought, anyhow? He was just a stupid alien. Screw him.

"Look, I have to go," I stated, excusing myself from the conversation, "it was nice to see you, again." I didn't know why I was saying it, but I did know that my voice was dripping with a venomous sarcasm that I didn't even know I could produce.

Zim didn't even seem to notice as he answered, "Ok, sure. See ya, Dib." and shut the door.

Fuming, I stormed down the front walk and back out to the sidewalk. I kicked one of the slats on the fence, dislodging it and stubbing my toe inside my boot before I realized one crucial detail:

I hadn't needed to sneak through the gnome field to reach the front door, after all.

Zim hadn't bothered to turn on the security system when he noticed me coming up the walk.

oooIIIooo

I slammed the door as I entered my house. Not even acknowledging Gaz and Error's matching looks of surprise at my entrance, I stormed past them—even going so far as to walk between them and the television, before stomping up the stairs to my room. What did I care if I screwed up their game? Didn't matter to me one bit.

As I unlocked and opened the door to my room, I could hear a snatch of conversation floating up the stairs.

"I think you should go see what's wrong." Error was saying.

"Me? What the hell should I go check on him?" Gaz replied, indignant at the thought of leaving her game for one second to see what was the matter with me. Typical.

"Well, a) because you're his sister, and I'm not, and b) because you agreed to help me out with this project as much as you could, and last time I checked, not being a total bitch, and keeping an eye on him would defiantly help me out quite a bit."

There was a tense silence, and for a moment I wondered if Gaz had killed her friend for daring to call her a "bitch".

"You know that I've doomed people for calling me lesser insults than that," my sister finally answered.

"And you know that I'm completely out of your dooming jurisdiction, so it really doesn't matter what you do to me."

Another silence.

"Fine," my sister conceded. I could hear her voice getting louder as she approached the stairs, "I'll go talk to him, but don't blame me if it doesn't do any good."

I rolled my eyes and closed the door to my room, throwing myself face down onto my bed. Of course Gaz would know that her talking to me wouldn't do any good. I had years ago stopped caring what she thought about me, knowing that she really didn't care to think much. Part of me kind of wanted to pour my problems out to her when she made it to my door out of spite, just to see her reaction, but the rest of me just didn't have the energy. I was too irritated to deal with any repercussions that would occur from talking to Gaz.

There was a knock at my door. I ignored it.

Another. Still, ignored.

Finally, there was a kick and the door shook on its hinges, but still held fast. "Damn it, Dib, what the hell is wrong with you?" My sister's voice shouted, muffled by the wood. Still, I ignored her, pressing my face further into the pillow in an attempt to drown her out. Finally, I heard her footsteps clomp away and the sound of her stomping down the stairs.

"See?" her voice faintly called as she descended the stairwell, "I told you that wouldn't work."

There was more muffled voices, but I tuned them out, deciding to focus, instead, on suffocating myself in my pillow, hoping to take all the self defeating thoughts with me. Still, I wondered why I was so upset. So what if Zim had replaced me with _Stan _as his mortal enemy. I mean, why wouldn't he? The kid was obviously _far_ more advanced than I _ever _was in that respect, and therefore _much_ more dangerous to Zim's mission. Plus, I had been gone for the past two years! What was it they said? Out of sight, out of—

There was another knock on my door, this one softer than Gaz's were, before. Still, I chose to ignore it.

"Dib? Come on, open up, I want to talk to you." Error's voice floated through the wooden barrier.

"I'm not in the mood." I called back, the understatement of the century.

I could hear the door open as the girl let herself in. Irritated, I rolled over, sitting up, determined to give her what-for for her intrusion.

"What the hell? I told you that I wasn't—" I had to stop, confused as I was by her appearance. The girl was standing there, in my doorway, one hand over her glasses, the other held out in front of her to ward off any objects as she slowly made her way into my room. "Why the hell do you have your hand over your eyes?" I demanded, determined not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

She stopped her movements and gave a one armed little shrug. "Well, I figured that, if I was gonna just barge in here, I might as well be prepared in case you were naked or something." The hand moved slightly, uncovering one lens of her glasses, "You're not, are you?"

Determined to continue to be pissed off, I refrained from laughing. "No, I'm not. You can move your hand."

She complied. "Good." she stated, moving towards, and taking a seat in the chair by my desk. Crossing her legs, she made an irritated noise, and took off her glasses, holding them up so that she could look through them in the light, "I really need to remember that I can't touch these stupid things. I always end up getting them all smudgy. Maybe I should just suck it up and spend the money to get new contacts." she grumbled, wiping off the lenses of her glasses with the bottom of her shirt. I continued to glare at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

She looked up from her rubbing, squinting to make me out. "I came to see if you're all right. You wouldn't talk to Gaz, so I figured I would give it a try."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "I'm _fine_, alright? I just had a bad day."

She replaced her glasses on her face, blinking as her eyes adjusted to being able to see, again, "You wanna talk about it?"

I lied back down, burying my face, once again, in my pillow. "Not really."

"Wanna talk about something else?"

I leaned up on one elbow, giving her my best grumpy look, "Why are you so insistent on getting me talking?"

"Why are you so insistent to keep quiet?" she countered.

I opened my mouth to counter attack, but found myself at a loss. I shoved my face back into my pillow, instead, "You wouldn't understand."

I could hear her moving around, and then felt a light pressure on the bed beside me. I looked up with one eye to see that she had moved the chair closer, and had leaned back in it, making herself completely comfortable, her legs stretched out so that her feet were propped up on the bed at my side. She was wearing two different socks.

"Try me." she offered.

Once again, rolling my eyes and sighing at her persistence, I relented and rolled over on my back. Once I started talking, I found it hard to stop, my mouth seeming to just vomit the information out straight from my brain with such a force and speed that it was almost as if a dam had broke somewhere. After it was all out, we sat in silence for a few moments.

"Sounds like you're jealous." she observed, finally, breaking through the quiet that had settled.

I turned my head to glare at her, "I am _not_ jealous." I stated.

"Oh, really, now?" she asked, raising one eyebrow, "Well, it certainly sounds that way to me."

"Well you're wrong. I mean, what do I have to be jealous of? He's just some kid. Just because he completely replaced me as the only person who can stand up against Zim doesn't mean—"

"Uh huh." Error interrupted, unimpressed, "Dib, didn't you _decide _to leave this town, _knowing_ that it would leave Zim unguarded?"

"Well, yeah, but Zim's kind of a moron. If he hadn't taken over in _that_ long, then—"

"Exactly. Zim is an idiot when it comes to his job, so why do you care so much this Stan kid replaced you as his adversary?"

"I don't!" I insisted.

"Ugh!" Error threw her hands in the air, rising to her feet, "You are so _stubborn_! Leave it to J to—" she cut off, quickly, a strangely guilty look on her face.

"What?"

"N-nothing, forget it, it doesn't matter." she insisted, a little too quickly.

"No, no, what were you going to say?" I asked, intrigued, "Leave it to who? J? Leave it to him to do what? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing!" She insisted, again, making her way to the door, "Look, forget I said anything. It doesn't matter. I-I have to go. Just…be careful, alright? Keep your emotions in check, right now, no matter what. This is an especially dangerous situation. You have to keep yourself from acting on your jealousy and doing something stupid, alright? Promise?"

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Just promise me!" she insisted, again, her eyes reflecting some kind of frightened determined emotion that I had never seen before.

"I—alright, I promise, but—"

"Good." she interrupted, and then left. I could hear her running down the stairs and out the front door. I moved to my window and watched her as she pulled out a cell phone and stood at the end of the walk with it up to her ear, waiting, it seemed, for the other party to pick up. After a few seconds she started to talk avidly, gesturing wildly with her free hand. After a moment or so she looked up towards my window. She must have seen me, because she suddenly started walking away from the house, down the street and out of sight, leaving me more confused than ever.

oooIIIooo

I must have seemed distracted the next day when meeting up with Stan, because, ah hour or so into our planning, he stopped, put down his pencil, and just…stared at me.

"What?" I asked, slightly unnerved by his gaze.

"What's wrong?"

I bushed him off, not really wanting to get into it with this guy that I barely trusted. "Nothing, let's just get back to work."

He didn't listen, still staring at me with is pencil on the table, "No, there is something. Your concentration is completely non-existent. We both need to be in complete mental control if we're gonna defeat Zim, so really, what's wrong?"

I sighed and rubbed my eyes under my glasses. He was right, of course. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the odd events of the night before all day. But how was I supposed to talk _him_ about the fact that Zim had replaced me or that he was somehow better than me? I decided to focus, instead, on one of the smaller worries that had been tugging at the edges of my brain.

"There's this girl…" I started.

Stan rolled his eyes, "You're letting yourself get all distracted because of some silly love affair?"

I blanched. He was taking it all wrong, "No, no, no! Nothing like that! She's a friend of my sister's who's staying with us for a while—"

"Your sister has _friends_?" he interrupted, completely taken aback by the notion.

I had to chuckle, "That's what I thought, but it seems to be true. She's in town for some kind of business, something that Gaz cares about, so she's letting her crash in the spare bedroom."

"Probably in for some kind of videogame function."

"That's what I thought, as well, but….she refuses to talk about what she does for a living…and went as far to assure me that Gaz cares about things _other_ than videogames, which makes me think that she doesn't work anywhere near the gaming industry, but every time I ask her about her job, she looks uncomfortable and changes the subject. The weirdest thing is…that Gaz actually _listens_ to her. I've seen them arguing and she just…backs down to this girl's will. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen."

Stan's eye's narrowed behind his glasses. I could swear that I could see some sort of…malice reflected in them. "Go on." he urged.

"What is it? What are you thinking?"

"I just have a bit of an idea who your visitor might be, just…go on, tell me more."

I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed under his stare, but did as he asked, "Well, the weirdest thing happened last night: she and I were talking about…some things, and she got all flustered because she mentioned some guy…some 'Jay' person, and then rushed out of the house, starting to talk on her cell phone the minute she was out the door. It was…what?"

Stan's face had started to become red with some intense emotion and his eyes were narrowed more than ever, pure hate reflected in their cool blue depths. "What did you say this girl's name was?" he asked, barely able to control the level of his voice.

"She calls herself 'Error', but admitted it was just a nickname. I don't know her real name. What are you thinking?" I asked, again.

It took a moment for Stan to calm down and control his breathing before he was able to answer. "I think that she's a spy."

I looked at him like he was crazy. "A spy? For whom?"

"Zim, the Irkens, someone whose best interests would revolve around getting _you_ out of the picture."

I thought about it for a moment, remembering how uncomfortable she seemed while joking about being a secret agent. Maybe…nah, that was ridiculous. "I doubt it, I mean, why would Zim care enough to send a spy to keep an eye on me?" I cringed, inwardly, thinking about how Zim didn't even care enough anymore to turn on his security system when I was around, "And besides, even if she _were_ a spy, how would she be controlling Gaz? I mean, my sister never really cared about saving the world, but she always helped out when absolutely necessary. There's no way she could just be going along with it all."

"Maybe she's under mind control, like that Tak alien was able to do in your notes."

I thought on that for a minute, and then realized the error, "But Gaz was never effected by Tak's mind powers. I don't think that she can by hypnotized."

Stan's frustration was growing, and he stood, throwing his hands in the air, "Either way, how can you just _sit_ there and defend her when she's probably some Irken spy bend on _destroying_ you!"

"She hasn't done anything so far except act kind of strangely and try to be my friend." I stated.

"She's just trying to earn your trust so she can betray you later on!"

I had to admit, what he was saying _was_ starting to make sense. But still, there was that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. Something telling me that this guy wasn't to be trusted. However, my natural sense of curiosity was, at the moment, overriding my sense of logic. "Still, how can we tell whether she's aspy or not? She keeps her room locked at all times."

"And that never tipped you off that something weird was going on?"

"Well, not really. I mean, I lock my door, too—"

"But she's a guest in your house! What should she have to hide from her hosts?"

I sighed, relenting, "Fine. You want to go break into her room and see what she's up to, we'll do it. However, if we get caught, I am _not_ taking the fall for this with my sister. _You _can be the one she dooms for all this, cos I'm not."

Stan's grin grew the widest I had ever seen it, and his unnaturally blue eyes sparkled dangerously. "Deal."

oooIIIooo

"I can't believe I'm doing this." I muttered for what seemed like the millionth time as I jiggled the paperclip I had found even further into the lock on Error's door.

"Oh, quit your bitching and pick the lock," Stan encouraged from his position at the stairs where he was keeping an eye out for my sister or her friend.

"You're the one who wants to do this so badly, why aren't _you_ the one picking the lock?" I demanded, blowing my bangs out of my face.

"Because I don't know how—I could never master it with a paperclip," he admitted. I felt a small twinge of pride at _finally_ finding something that I was better at than him, "although," he continued, "a credit card is much more effective and quicker, but hey, it's your house, you pick the break in methods." That warm feeling faded as suddenly as it appeared, leaving my insides icy and cold. Deciding to just ignore it, I focused my attention once again on the lock.

Finally, I heard the click of the tumbler falling into place, and the spare bedroom door creaked open. "Yes!" I breathed, standing up and wiping off the knees of my pants.

"Finally!" Stan grunted from behind me as he left his post. He looked at me, expectantly, and made a gesture that I should go first, "After you."

I looked at him like he was nuts, "Why do_ I_ have to go first? That was _your_ idea!"

That exasperated look returned. "Cos it's _your_ house, _remember_? Will you just go?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes at his stubbornness. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened the door to Error's room. I fumbled a moment or so for the light switch and then, flicking it on, gasped at what lie before me.

The walls were covered with diagrams and pictures. Almost every spare inch had some sort of paper covering the surface: movement reports, maps, everything relating to four key people: Gaz, Zim, Stan, and…myself.

"What the hell is all this stuff?" I breathed, staring at each picture and handwritten note in turn.

I could hear Stan chuckle behind me, "See? I told you she was a spy." I could tell by his voice that his stupid smug grin had returned and for some reason I wanted to punch him.

"Hey! Look at this!" Stan exclaimed, digging through a pile of video disks. I walked over to where he was standing, looking at the disks' titles over his shoulder: Zim Eats Waffles, Room With A Moose, Future Dib, Gaz Taster Of Pork—all making reference to events that had happened in my childhood. I felt a small chill run up my spine. How long had this girl been watching me?

"What the hell is going on, here?" A voice from behind me demanded. Stan and I both whirled around to face the intruder.

Error stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

I swallowed down my first instinctual emotion of fear at being caught and replaced it instead with the indignant anger than had been rising since I walked in the room, "You know, I could ask _you_ the same question!" I stated.

Error's angry scowl faltered, and she shook her head, "Dib, look, this isn't what it looks like."

"Then what is it, huh? Cos it looks to me like you've been _spying _on me! And for a very long time, as well! Is _this_," I threw a handful of papers at her, which fluttered harmlessly to the floor, "your 'Top Secret' business that you were sent here for? Huh? To spy on _me_ and my family?"

"Dib—"

"No, I don't want to hear any excuses!' I interrupted, holding my hand up, "What I want to know is who sent you? Why are you here? I want answers."

"Yeah," Stan agreed, coming out from behind me to lean on the edge of the dresser, his voice dripping with amusement, "Why don't you give us some answers, _Erin_?"

Error's eyes grew wide with surprise, and then narrowed, again, pure hate making them dangerous, "_You_!" she breathed.

I looked between the two of them, confused about the turn that this conversation was taking, " You two…know each other?"

Stan pushed himself off the dresser, "Oh, we know each other, alright, don't we Erin?"

"Damn it, Stan, do you have any _idea_ how many rules you're breaking by having this much influence in this Test? You're violating every treaty that—"

"_I'm _breaking the rules!" Stan interrupted, "Says the girl who's been _living _in the subject's _house_ for the entirety of the Test! You're really funny, Erin, you know that?"

I was becoming more confused by the second. Test? Rules? Treaty? Subject? What the hell? "Uh, can I interject here for a moment—"

"I wouldn't have to _be_ here if you hadn't have put a _shield _around the Testing area. I could barely make it though _last_ time, you can't blame me for taking a bit of precaution this time around. "

"How is your hand, anyhow?" Stan sneered, " I hope you didn't get burned _too_ badly from trying to get into my club. You should know better than to go where you're not _invited_."

"Hey!" I shouted. Both heads turned towards me, pausing in their argument, "Do you think that maybe _one_ of you could tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

Stan's smug grin grew wider as he gestured towards Error, "Yes, dear, why don't you tell little Dib here what's going on?"

Error glared at the blond boy, "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Yes," Stan agreed, "Why not?"

Error whirled on him, her hands clenching into angry fists at her side, "Will you _stop_ trying to make matters worse, here? You've fucked this all up, enough, damn it!"

Stan laughed, good naturedly, "Tsk, tsk, little one, I'm not sure your boss would appreciate such language from one of his trainees."

Error glared at him again, and then sighed, and turned towards me, "Look, Dib, I can't tell you what's going on. Enough rules have been broken here, on _both sides_, " she directed the last few words towards Stan's direction, "that, while this Test has been essentially ruined, I can't take the risk of screwing up, anymore."

"I don't understand." I stated.

She ran a hand through her hair, "I know you don't. That's the point. And _some people_," again, the last words directed towards Stan, "like to take advantage of that fact. Jus—"

"Oh, for the love of…" Stan interrupted, and made a flicking motion towards me with his hand. Suddenly I couldn't move. My arms and legs seemed to be frozen in place. I opened my mouth to scream but found that I couldn't do that, either. I was essentially paralyzed.

Error turned on the laughing Stan, "Let him go! You're not helping things, any!" She shouted.

"And you're just wasting my time, and his, by explaining to the boy why you can't explain anything to him. It's pointless. Let's just agree that this Test is default and let him move on to the next. All this talk is useless, seeing as how he's _mine_ there, anyhow."

Error's entire body tensed, as if she wanted to hit him, but then relaxed as she let out a defeated breath. "Fine. The Test is default. He moves on. But I swear, if you do _anything_ to hurt him or betray the set Rules of these Tests—"

"What are you going to do to stop me, Erin, really? You can't get into the final Test—I'm the only one with the correct energy to do so. And if the way _this_ Test was leaning is any indication, well," he le out a smug chuckle and shrugged, "you're screwed!"

I could tell by the way the Error's jaw clenched as he laughed at her that she was trying to hold back angry tears. I tried to struggle against my restraints or call out to her that this wasn't her fault, whatever was happening, but couldn't.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind," Stan was saying, calming himself from his laughter fit, "I would appreciate it if you do that little snappy thing that you people do to send him on. We really should be going."

Error's jaw tightened all the more and she drew in a ragged breath. Turning to me her eyes softened, and she raised her hand, her fingers curled in a snapping position, "I'm sorry, Dib. I thought I could handle it. I'm sorry." She whispered. Then, closing her eyes, she snapped her fingers and my world exploded.

* * *

A/n: Well, there, you guys go. Hopefully it was well worth the wait. The next few chapters are pretty much the climax of the story, and therefore will be out quickly (hopefully) and be slightly on the dramatic side, much like the end of this one was.

Thank you so much for your patience and to Dibsthe1 and Lael Adair for reading through my other chapter to give me second and third opinions on what path I should take.

As always, R and R, and thank you, again, for putting up with this long of a hiatus.

j


	10. TruthLies

A/n: Told you guys that the next chapter would be up quickly. This, once again, isn't a Test chapter, but instead, a bit of an exposition (read: PLOT), to let you know what is going on in the Waking World and also within the inherent Nature of the Tests. I warn you, though, I wrote this all in one shot at 330am while drugged up on cold meds so, while it makes perfect sense to me, it may not to anyone else. If it doesn't, I'm sorry, but I assure you that it doesn't make much sense to Dib, either, so you're really not all that left out.

Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. They make me very happy and do a little dance when I get bored and check my mail from my phone at work.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Zim. Sorry.

* * *

You Only Live Twice

Part Ten: In which Dib learns the Truths that are found within Lies.

_Main Entry: de·cep·tion  
Pronunciation: di-'sep-sh&n  
Function: noun  
Etymology: Middle English decepcioun, from Middle French deception, from Late Latin deception-, deceptio, from Latin decipere to deceive  
1 a : the act of deceiving b : the fact or condition of being deceived  
2 : something that deceives : TRICK_

It was dark. Dark and cold. Above me the sky was as clear as I had ever seen it, devoid of any cloud that might mar its surface and give me some sense of Space or Time. The air around me was stagnant, unmoving, but still cold, the chill cutting through the leather of my jacket and the cloth of my clothing to pierce and cut my flesh. Surrounding me were trees and shrubs, enclosing me within the clearing where I had found myself, but not a branch moved, not a sound was echoed. It was almost as if I were trapped in a single moment, in that place that occurs in those few milliseconds between Yesterday and Tomorrow. Stuck, lost, trapped within—

"Limbo," a voice stated behind me. I turned, quickly, to face it, somewhere in the back of my head acknowledging that the swish of my trench was the only sound within this everlasting dark, cold, lovely night.

I faced a boy a few years older than I, his eyes shadowed behind his square glasses, his blond hair seeming to glow in the moonlight.

"Once again, you are trapped in Limbo." he continued, clarifying his rather obscure previous statement.

I looked around me, and then back at him, confused, "But I thought that Limbo was—"

"A restaurant? An empty school?" the boy interrupted, "Those are different versions of Limbo, yes, designed to hide the darker and less pleasant Truth."

"This is the Truth?" I asked, still slightly confused.

"Yes. This cold, dark place; this moment within moments, without wind or sound or time; _this_ is the truth, Dib. This is what those you have been associating with—those who have been claiming to _guide_ you—have been hiding from you. This _Truth _is what they've been keeping from you, masquerading it with life and memories and _hope_."

"And why are you showing it to me, then?"

He smiled. A slow, lazy smile that I automatically wanted to like, even though something deep within me told me not to. "To gain your trust." he stated.

"Why?" I asked, suspicious, "Who are you? What do you care?"

Now it was his turn to look confused, but it passed, quickly, and he snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, your memories. I forgot to give them to you."

"My—" I started, but was unable to finish my thought as I noticed him making a small gesture with his hand and all of a sudden my head was enveloped in white hot pain. I fell to my knees, not even noticing the fact that I had probably bruised them with the impact, clutching my head as I screamed with turned into choking coughs as I vomited in the space between my knees. Tears ran down my face as I spat up the last bit of whatever I had eaten, my saliva tinged red with blood, and lifted myself again to my feet, wobbling with the effort that it took to stand.

I wiped my mouth and lifted my head, glaring daggers at the boy in front of me. "_Stan_," I hissed, the name tasting worse than bile on my tongue, "you want me to trust you after what you pulled? After what you tried to do?"

He shrugged, not losing his cool demeanor for an instant, "Just doin' my job, man."

"You tried to make me fail the Test! Hell, you _were_ the Test, setting me up to be jealous of your successes over my failures! You're going to have to do a lot better than showing me this version of 'Truth' if you think that you're going to gain my trust. I don't want anything that you could give." I began to turn away, disgusted by the man's presence.

"Power, Dib," Stan stated from behind me, "Control. You're telling me that you don't want that? That you don't want the ability and strength to stand up for yourself? You destroy your enemies?"

I turned back towards him, stubbornly determined not to be swayed by his words, "You never offered me anything like that. All you did was show me how sub-par and worthless I was." I accused.

"_Oh, really?"_ A voice from within my head, answered. I recognized the voice as Stan's, even though his lips hadn't moved.

"How did you—"

"_This isn't the only form you've encountered me in, Dib,_" the voice continued, "_Now which was the one that you liked best?_"

As I watched, Stan looked up and towards the right, his lips pursed as if in careful thought. He began to snap his fingers, as if trying to remember something, and with each snap, his body changed and warped into someone new, instantly.

"_Who was it_?" the voice mused as Stan snapped, his form changing to that of Steve, the man who befriended me in my father's office, of my newlywed uncle who gave me my first drink, of Agent DarkBooty, his features bathed in shadow. A sick understanding began to crawl up my spine and into my brain.

"Oh, yes!" DarkBooty stated, pointing a finger in revelation, "I remember, now!"

Another snap and she stood before me. Stephanie. The Original Fallen Angel, hell bent on being with and empowering the Savior of the Earth. She smiled at me, that slow, seductive smile, her hand tracing a slow path from her hair to her chest and down one hip as she posed, "This was the one, right?" she crooned, that smug smirk playing on her too red lips.

I swallowed the lump that had been rising in my throat, trying to force my fifteen year old brain to focus on the matter at hand, and not where I would like to place my hands on the matter. "You—" my voice cracked, I cleared my throat, "you've been there all the time, tempting me, wanting me to fail, and you now want me to _trust_ _you_?" I asked, incredulous.

Stephanie laughed, a slow, tinkling laugh, "I want you to understand the nature of _power_, Dib. I want you to understand that _you_ are the one in control of your life and your actions and everything that goes with it. That you don't _have_ to do anything that you don't want to: you don't _have _to chase after Zim, you don't _have _to bend your will around your sister's, and you don't _have _to save the planet if you don't _want_ to. It's not like anyone is going to care or notice, anyhow. Remember: the _last_ time some guy came around claiming to be a Savior, his people strung him up on a cross to slowly die of starvation and blood loss. What makes you think that Humanity will treat _you_ any different?"

"I—" I was at a loss, unable to make my mouth work, to tell her that she was wrong, that people _did_ care about my efforts to save Humanity and the Earth. That my efforts _weren't_ in vain. That I _did_ matter. But suddenly, my vocabulary, as well as my conviction faltered and I stood there with my mouth open like a moron, taking in everything that she had just said.

"My, my sister," I stammered, "my father, they—"

"Your father is three weeks away from pulling the plug on your sorry ass," she scoffed, flipping her long, black hair, "if _that_ doesn't say 'I love you', than I don't know _what _does." She laughed, dry and hollow, without humor, "And you sister, well, really, since when did _she_ ever see you as anything but a bore and a nuisance?"

I shook my head, "No, no, you're wrong. I saw them, Gaz…Gaz was _mad_ at our dad for wanting to pull the plug on me! She was going to try and stop it! She—"

"Do you want to see for yourself?" Stephanie asked, her voice forced and frustrated, "Will you believe me, then, if you see it for your own eyes?"

I could sense some sort of trick, but my stubborn and curious nature took over, and I felt my jaw tighten as I said, "Yes."

The girl before me sighed and made a light gesture with her hand, her scars catching the moonlight, and I felt a small displacement—a dizzy feeling that I realized I would never fully become accustomed to—and I found myself in the cold, stagnant, sterile surroundings that could only be attributed to a hospital room.

I had to blink for a few moments to make my eyes adjust to the sudden harshness of the florescent lights after so much darkness. That strange, antiseptic smell assaulted my nose, and it was all I could do to keep from vomiting, again. After a few moments I began to hear the murmurs of voices from behind the curtain where my body lay, and, without even checking to see if Stephanie was behind me (I already knew she was, I could feel her warm presence, coiled like a snake, somewhere in the back of my spine), I phased through the curtain and faced with lie beyond.

Beside my bed stood my father and sister, who was glaring up at him with angry tears in her eyes. My father's face was unreadable as always, hidden behind his goggles and lab coat.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" my sister demanded, her hands in tight fists at her side. She wiped at her cheeks, angrily, even though they were still dry. Gaz didn't even like the _idea_ of being caught crying.

"Now, Daughter," Dad was saying in his 'comforting' voice. I noticed that he didn't use Gaz's name. I wondered if he could even remember it, "you're being irrational. After the deadline, even if your brother were to awaken, he wouldn't _be_ your brother, anymore, he'd be—something different. You don't want that, do you? You don't want him coming back without his insane ramblings about his para-nonsense, do you?"

"Paranormal," Gaz muttered, a bit too softly for our father to have heard the correction, "And wouldn't that be a _good_ thing for _you_?" she demanded, her voice louder, "If he were to come back talking about something other than his stupid aliens and ghosts, wouldn't you _want_ that?"

Our father looked away, which I could only tell by the way his head moved, "As much as it would please me if your brother would join me pursuing Real Science(!), after a few weeks, he won't even have the mental capacity to solve basic addition, never the less find a cure for the Common Cold."

"But there's a chance that—"

Dad looked back up, sharply, "That chance is so low that it isn't even worth thinking about." he stated, his voice sharp and angry. He took a deep breath, and placed a hand on my sister's shoulder, "Look at him, Daughter." Gaz obeyed, her face pinched in some unreadable expression, "Your brother isn't in there, anymore. His brain scans—"

"Show some kind of activity! I've seen the readouts!" Gaz interrupted.

Dad shook his head, again, "No, no, you're mistaken. Those readouts show nothing more than the basic brain activity, just enough to keep the body functioning. There is no higher thought process going on. Just the basic electrical signals and dream waves."

Dream waves? It was evident that I was dreaming? Were these Tests nothing more than elaborate hallucinations? A way of keeping my brain occupied while my body fought for life? What could that possibly mean?

My father was continuing, his voice overly cheerful despite the morbidity of his words, "Your brother isn't there, anymore. The person that you knew and loved is gone, and we have to move on. We have to be strong, now, and place all this unpleasantness behind us. He would want that, don't you think?"

It was silent for a moment, and then Gaz sighed, "I…I guess you're right, but—"

"Of course I'm right." Dad stated. He began to move, steering my sister towards the door, "Now, I still have thirty minutes until I have to go back to the office. If we go now, we can get a slice of pizza at that Blighty's place you like so much."

"It's 'Bloaty's', Dad." Gaz corrected, allowing herself to be moved.

Dad laughed, "Of course it is. I knew that you were my _smart_ child!"

They moved towards and then started past me, but at the last moment, curious as to what might occur, I stepped into Gaz's path, forcing her to walk through me. It was a curious sensation, passing through her bones and muscle and sinew and thought, and I was almost too disoriented to notice her stop, her back stiff and tight, her hand to her forehead as she whispered, "Dib?" and turned back to face me, her eyes somehow meeting mine in a look of pure confusion, fear, and…happiness?

Before anything else could happen, however, I found myself back in the stiff, stagnant darkness of Limbo, and I whirled around to face Stephanie, my hands in tight fists that I could barely control.

"What the hell did you do _that _for?" I demanded, "I had _reached_ her! She _noticed_ me!"

"It was just a coincidence," Stephanie stated, shaking her head, "Had you stayed there any longer you would have seen her only shake her head and walk away. She didn't _feel_ you, Dib, she was just solidifying her decision to let you go. I wanted to spare you that heartbreak."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Was I lying about your father's decision to kill you? About his lack of emotion over it? Of your sister's agreement?"

I kept my mouth shut, stubbornly refusing to neither confirm of deny her words.

"I only want to show you the _truth_, Dib. I only want you to know the difference between the Truth and the Lies and how to control those who will try and do you harm. I only have your best interests at heart." she stated, her voice full of sincerity that I had to force myself to doubt.

"Do you, now?" I asked, keeping my voice level and deadpan. I refused to let her see how much she was effecting me, both her words and her body.

"Of course." she answered.

"And what about J and Erin?" I asked, trying, and failing to remember my past Guardians' faces, their warm, comforting words.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that they fight a bit _too_ hard for your success? I mean, think about it," she was saying, starting to pace with the force of her words, her hair flying out behind her like a cape, "J puts a _trainee_ in his place when the Energies change to a Female nature. A trainee who still _waits tables_ for a living because her own Creations haven't enough Creative Energy to come fully to life. Hardly anyone that _I_ would trust with one of my 'favorite' Dreams, as he claims that you are. And why does he place this trainee on your case? So that he can continue to keep an eye on you."

"He just wanted to make sure that I was safe." I stated, coming to my friend's defense.

"Oh, Dib, you're so trusting." Stephanie laughed, "You really think that he couldn't continue to watch your progress from the Home Office? He's watched you your whole life, kid, I really doubt that anything could stop him while you were on the brink of death if he really tried. No, he wanted to make sure that he still had a _say _in the matter with those next Tests. Had he passed it on to a Fully Trained Guardian, he could only watch, but not interfere. However, with one of his _trainees_ running around, doing his dirty work, he could still keep his hand on you, just a degree or two separated."

"Again, he just wanted to—"

"Make sure that you were doing ok? So you're really comforted with the fact that he didn't _trust_ you to make the right decisions, or at least, whatever decisions _he_ deems as right? Cos that's what it looks like to me, kid." That smug little smile returned.

I felt sick to my stomach, a cold knot forming there. Could she be telling the truth? Could J really not trust me to look out for myself, to make the right choices? And what choices were the right ones, anyhow? I had been told the nature of the Tests, but how was I to know that J had been telling me the truth? Maybe I had been making the _wrong _decisions all along, to better play along with J and Erin's plans. They _had_ said before that there was something planned for me; something big and important. Was that necessarily something _good_? Was I really free to make my own choices in this matter, or was I just playing into some sort of sick game?

"Why should I believe you?" I asked, my eyes searching hers for some semblance of reality and Truth.

She shrugged, "You shouldn't. You shouldn't believe anyone but yourself, cos in the end, that's the only person that matters and be there for you when the shit hits the fan. I just wanted you to be a bit more aware of the situation, considering I'm going to be your Guide through the next Test and all."

I was taken aback. "You?" I asked, incredulous, "But J and Erin said that I was going to be _alone_ for the final test!"

She smiled a sad, slow smile, "They mislead you, then, Dib, and not for the first time, I imagine. The energy of the final Test is androgynous, which I, as you have to have been able to tell, obviously am. I can be either male or female at whim, depending on the situation and the desires of the Subject. I am the only one able to Guide you through Sloth, and you must trust me if you are going to be able to get through it."

I shook my head, still not fully understanding, "You _want_ me to get through the Test? But I thought—"

"Dib, I want you to be _happy_. That's all I want, and all I will be pushing for in the next Test. It's up to you to decide what that happiness is: staying within the next Test for all of eternity, or returning to that world of pain and despair where no one loves or appreciates you, and even those who are supposed to be closest to you are wishing you dead. It will be your choice, Dib. It's just up to me to show you the right one."

I tried, still, to focus solely on her words and not her meaning, not wanting to be swayed, not wanting to acknowledge what she was telling me, the Truths that she spoke, which could really only be masked Lies.

"I thought that the last Test was Sloth. Why would I want to stay there?" I asked.

Again, that smile, as she shook her head, raising her hand, gracefully, "You'll see." She stated, and gestured, lightly.

The stars blinked out one by one and I found myself, again, floating through the darkness.

* * *

A/n: Stopping there. Threw a bit of a wrench in the gears, but Someone had to do it. Confused? Good, cos I am, too, kind of. I would touch a bit on what is going through my mind, here, but have decided, instead, to save it for the ending Author's Note, where I'm planning on going through this all step by step, and chapter by chapter, cos I don't see it getting much clearer, for some reason, and it seems that there are a few of you out there who are slightly confused by it all, still. But that's ok, cos Dib is, too, and I was told a long time ago that if the reader is That Much ahead of the protagonist than the Writer is giving too much away. So I guess I'm doing my job.

Psst: I know that I'm stretching the definition of "androgynous" a bit, (or a lot) but chalk it up to creative liberties, alright?

At any rate, this story has now reached an Amazing 315 pages (Times New Roman, 12pt, not including Author's Notes). Making it, still, as I'm sure I've mentioned, before, the single longest thing I've ever written. It's beaten FPL by about 200 pages, and I still have two more chapters left, I think. That's freaking amazing. I thank you all so much for reading this much, cos, wow, that's a lot to read.

As always, please R and R. Make my stuffed up head explode with happiness rather than implode with snot. (Wow, I just grossed _myself_ out. Awesome.)

j


	11. Perfection

A/n: Yay! An update! Hoorah!

Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I feel kinda bad, cos I was all excited and going to congratulate and thank Miss Mimsy-Borogovefor being my 100th review (yay!) but then, on a whim, went back and read them all, and discovered that there is one that was a double post. So, really, there is only 99 reviews, not 100. Poop. Still, Mimsy rocks. Hardcore. To the max. Yo. (Man, I need sleep.)

I wonder who will Really be number 100, then. Hmmm…

An of course, my internet decided to go all wonky right when I want to post this. Stupid internet.

But, again, thank you all for your wonderful reviews and for sticking it through this long. I'm up to 380 pages. Hooooly Crap. Also, thank you to Dibsthe1 for beta reading most of this chapter.

DISCLAIMER: Yes, I own no Zim. I own no Zim, today.

* * *

You Only Live Twice

PART ELEVEN: In which Dib finds perfection.

Main Entry: **sloth**

Pronunciation: 'sloth, 'släth _also _'slOth  
Function: _noun_  
Inflected Form(s): _plural_ **sloths** /_with _ths _or _thz/  
Etymology: Middle English _slouthe, _from _slow _slow  
**a** disinclination to action or labor **: INDOLENCE**

**b** spiritual apathy and inactivity the deadly sin of _sloth_

_Zim's base was dark, the only source of light coming from the many screens and monitors that lined the walls of the room. For some reason the light from the screen where he was working caused the colours of he features to reverse, making his skin a blood red colour and his eyes shine like emeralds instead of rubies. His hands moved at a frantic pace, claws tapping away a mile a minute on the keyboard, his eyes scanning the lines of text that flowed across the screen in a language that I couldn't read or comprehend. As I moved closer to him, his face contorted with a look of helpless agitation and he slammed his fists into the consol, causing to sparks to fly as it short circuited. _

"_Owwww!" The computer whined, "What'd you do _that_ for!"_

"_There is NOTHING! NOTHING I can use to revive the Dib-Human!" Zim raged, kicking at the computer a few more times to further demonstrate and work out his anger and frustration, "The knowledge of the universe at my command and I can't find a single thing that will make the _filthy_ wormbaby WAKE UP!" _

_I was confused. Zim? Trying to find a cure? For me? There was something seriously wrong with this situation. Why in the world would Zim want me to get out of my coma? His entire purpose in life was to destroy me so that he could take over the Earth, so why wouldn't he be taking this opportunity to wreck havoc? _

"_With all due respect, Sir," the computer breached, "why are you even bothering? The Dib is your enemy, so why would you want him well?" _

_At least the computer was thinking clearly. _

_Zim glared at the ceiling, "Do not question the judgment of the almighty _ZIM_!" He shouted, shaking a fist, "My reasons are far beyond your _inferior_ comprehension!"_

"_But…I'm a computer. An AI. That automatically means that—"_

"_IMMA GONNA MAKE CHURROS!" Gir screamed, sliding out of a transportation chute and running full force across the room and into a wall, causing him to fall onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he shouted, "Look! Macaroni!" before giggling insanely to himself and singing a little song about crab people._

_Zim rolled his eyes, "He's AI, as well," he stated, jerking a thumb in Gir's direction, "what's your point?" _

"_Touché." _

"_Now, then," Zim began, "Computer, run another search for any possible cure for this Coma that the Dib has found himself in. There has to be _something_ we can use!"_

"_But sir, we've already run this search twenty—"_

"_SILENCE!" Zim shouted, "Run the search AGAIN, Computer." _

"_Yes, sir." the computer grumbled as Zim moved to another station. _

_Suddenly I felt a strange presence behind me, and I turned to face it, gasping at what I saw. The space behind me faded into pitch black nothingness, the only light being two red glowing eyes. _

"_**You shouldn't be here." **the creature in the darkness rasped, it's voice consisting of a hundred pained screams. I caught a whiff of an unfamiliar stench in its breath, sweet and rancid, like decaying meat. _

_I backed away from it, scrambling to get myself to safety as it reached a thin arm out of the darkness, the flesh melted away in some parts to show rotting bone, and grabbed onto my shoulder, claws digging into my flesh. I struggled and fought, trying to pull myself out of its grip, but it hung on tightly, dragging me into the darkness._

I awoke, jerking up in bed, gasping for air, a scream on my lips. I looked around wildly, trying to place where I was. I recognized the dimly lit walls and floor of my room and allowed myself to fall back on to the pillows, closing my eyes, again. A dream. It was just a nightmare.

As I was willing my heart and breath to return to a normal speed, I felt a cool, dry hand wipe the sweat and hair away from my forehead.

"Shhh," a voice whispered, "It's ok, Dib, it was just a dream. You're alright, now, you're safe."

The voice was familiar and comforting, yet something I hadn't heard in a very, very long time. It made pleasant memories run through my mind: hot chocolate after a snowball fight, a dry kiss to cure a skinned knee, a warm hug to sooth tears, a lilting song while washing dishes, handing them to my sister to dry and to me to put away. Fragile moments so far gone that it was hard to tell if they were real.

I cautiously opened my eyes, squinting in the dim morning light, "Mom?" I whispered.

Her face came into view, slightly blurry, but smiling, "You had a nightmare, darling, I could hear you screaming from downstairs." she shook her head, "You always have such vivid dreams."

"Mom?" I whispered, again, not fully believing what I was seeing. Her face was exactly as I remembered it, save a few added laugh lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth. Her long purple hair was pulled back into a pony tale, her blue eyes—a feature that neither my sister nor I inherited—sparkling with worry. I sat up, slowly, reaching out a hand to touch her face.

"Yes, Dib, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, her brow furrowing in a worried frown.

My hand reached her cheek, and I hesitantly touched it with my fingertips, feeling its warmth. That broke whatever spell I had been under and I threw my arms around her, burrowing my face into her shoulder as I felt the tears begin to flow. "Mom! You're alive! Oh thank god, you're alive! I thought that—"

It was then that I realized that something was terribly wrong. There was no way that my mother could be alive—I was there when she took her final breath, when we lowered her coffin into the earth. I was the one who packed up her belongings and sent them to the proper family members or the Salvation Army, because Dad was never around to do it and Gaz had a tendency to burst into tears whenever she came across something of our mother's. This was before she threw herself so far into her games and walled herself off from the rest of the world, of course.

I pulled back, fighting against the little voice in my head that screamed for more contact, and held her at arm's length, studying her face as much as I could without my glasses.

"Dib, what's wrong?" she asked, "What are you talking about?"

I shook my head, feeling more hot tears form behind my eyes, "No. No, this can't be real. You're dead. You died of cancer. I watched you. I felt you leave us, this can't be real. You're dead."

My mother shook her head, tears of her own starting to form, "No, honey, you're wrong. I'm not dead, I'm just fine. I'm right here." she raised her hands from inside my arms and placed them on either side of my face, "See? I'm real. It was just a dream, honey."

Again, I shook my head, closing my eyes to block her from view. If I didn't see her, she wasn't real and this hallucination couldn't fool me any longer, "No, no, you're dead. I watched you die, we buried you, you're dead. You left us alone and died and we couldn't stop it and this isn't nice why are you trying to trick me like this?" I was crying full force, now unashamed in my confusion.

My mother pulled my face towards hers and touched my forehead to her own. "No, Dib, you're wrong. It was just a dream, okay? Snap out of it, baby, it was just a dream. Just a dream."

A dream? My eyes shot open. A dream. The Tests. This was a Test. But how could that be? I was told that I wouldn't have any of my prior memories during the Tests. Why did I remember my mother dying, then, if she was obviously alive in this Reality? Was that another thing that J and Erin had lied to me about? Had they just erased my memories in the Tests that _they_ controlled? Had Stan, Stephanie, whatever the hell its name was, just neglected from erasing my memories, thinking that it would give it an advantage?

I pulled away from my mother's embrace, consciously slowing my breathing in an effort to calm myself. I needed to keep full concentration so as to not miss the decision that needed to be made. I needed to focus.

My mother continued to look at me, worry crossing her delicate features.

"I'm okay, now, Mom." I stated, not wanting to worry her any further and feeling like an ass for reacting the way that I had, "I just…you're right, I had a nightmare and it just…it just seemed so real, and—"

She placed her hand, again, on my cheek and smiled, softly, "It's alright, dear. I understand. Sometimes it's hard to tell the dreams from the reality, huh?"

I nodded. She had no idea.

There was a sound from the hallway; someone coming towards the room.

"Hey, Dib, are you ready, yet? We're gonna be late." my sister stated coming into view in the doorway. Taking in the scene before her, she stopped short, frowning in a worried way that mimicked our mother. I never noticed how much she had grown to look like her. Strange. "Hey, bro, what's wrong? You okay?"

I was taken aback. Gaz? Caring about whether I was alright when it had nothing to do with herself? The hell?

Our mother stood, moving away from my bed. "Your bother had another one of his nightmares. I'm surprised you couldn't hear him screaming."

I blushed, slightly, in embarrassment, but it went unnoticed as Gaz blushed, herself, "I had my music up really loud." she stated, looking at the floor.

Our mother chuckled, ruffling my sister's chin-length hair. "Figured as much." She then clapped her hands together, getting both of our attention. "Up and at 'em, Atom Ant!" she said to me. Shooing my sister out of the room, I heard her say, "Come on and let your brother get ready. I'm sure you guys have time for some waffles before you go to school."

"Waffles? Come on, Mom, _no one_ lets their moms make breakfast for them, anymore. That's for kids." My sister whined, sounding all of her thirteen years old: too 'cool' for anything she attributed to her childhood.

"Well, then," my mother started, her voice growing fainter as they reached the stairs, "guess I'm just gonna have to eat a batch of chocolate chip ones all by myself, then."

"Hey, you didn't say _anything_ about chocolate chips." Gaz stated before their voices grew too quiet for me to hear.

I sighed and laid back against the pillows wondering what to do next. In every other Test I didn't remember who I really was, so I could easily just go about my business like normally because I had the other Dib's memories. With this one…I had no idea how this version of my family, or for that matter, the rest of the world functioned. There was no way for me to get out of here without making an idiot out of myself. Great.

I sighed, again, realizing that I really had no choice but to get up and go about my day as normally as I could. I wouldn't have a chance of passing the Sloth Test by staying in bed the whole time, would I? Besides, I thought, taking in a deep breath, there were chocolate chip waffles waiting for me, downstairs.

Yum.

oooIIIooo

I followed the delicious smell of waffles down the stairs and into the kitchen, my mouth watering the whole time. However, my appetite quickly diminished as my stomach curled itself in a tight little knot in shock at the scene that lay before me.

My entire family was seated at the table, enjoying the waffles and having a rather pleasant morning conversation. My entire family. My father included. It was all I could do to keep my knees steady as I stood in the doorway, watching them all interact. It made sense, I guess: with my mother still alive, my father had no reason to hide in his lab all hours of the day. Would also explain my sister's odd behavior, because without my mother's death, there would be no reason for her to turn into the introverted grump that she became in my reality.

I had just come to terms with all of this when I noticed the fourth person seated at the breakfast table. It had taken me a moment to notice him because his disguise was different—the wig a better hairstyle and normal clothes instead of a uniform—but the green skin eventually made something in my brain connect and I made a surprised sound in the back of my throat which caused both my family and the intruder to look up.

"Hey," Gaz greeted, her mouth full of waffley goodness. She pointed to a plate in the middle of the table with her fork, "we saved you some."

"Oh, that's nice, Gaz. Isn't it considered rude by your species to talk with your mouth full?" Zim scoffed.

Gaz smirked and then opened her mouth wide in his direction, showing him a healthy dose of the nastiness of partially chewed waffle. He recoiled, the force sending his chair tottering backward and he fell to the floor with a pained "Oof" as his pak hit the ground below him.

Gaz snorted, but then was cut short by a scathing glare from both of our parents.

Our father shook his head, "Gaz, I thought we raised you better than that."

My sister had the decency to look sheepish as she rose from her chair and offered Zim a hand up, which he accepted graciously. "Sorry." she mumbled.

Zim shrugged and brushed himself off. Then, after a moment, a mischievous look crossed his face and he quickly darted out his long, snakelike tongue, licking the side of Gaz's face with the tip. Gaz recoiled and feel backwards onto her backside as our parents laughed.

"Sure, it's funny when _he_ does it." she grumbled, rubbing her butt where she landed.

My father chuckled, putting his paper down on the table and taking a swig from his coffee, "Yes, well, ahem." He cleared his throat, focusing all of his attention on his mug.

"Oh for the love of…" my mother muttered, shaking her head. She addressed my sister who had finally gotten up from the floor and was scooting her chair back up to the table, "Gaz, it was only fair: you pulled a trick on him and he pulled one back on you. It's even, now. Eat your waffles."

"Whatever." Gaz grumbled, shoving another fork full into her mouth. She looked back up at me, her face scrunched in an expression of confusion, "What are you still doing standing there? What's wrong with you? Your breakfast is getting cold."

I could feel myself standing with my mouth agape at the scene, and I knew that I looked like an idiot, but I didn't care. They were sitting there. Eating. With Zim. Didn't they realize the danger they were in? What was wrong with them!

I pointed frantically at the alien, who had again made himself comfortable at my family's table, "An alien! There! Look! He's an alien!" I shouted.

Gaz looked at Zim and then shrugged, turning back to me, "Yeah, so?"

"An alien! With the green and the antenna and the alieny...stuff! There! Right there!"

She let out an exasperated breath, "Yes, Dib, we know, now will you come eat so we can leave for school? You know Mom won't let us leave before you get some breakfast in you."

"It's the most important meal of the day!" My mother chipped in, cheerily.

I turned to her, my mouth hanging practically to the floor by now, "Mom! What's wrong with you! You have an insane, homicidal alien bent on world domination sitting at your table and you're more worried about me having a healthy diet!"

"Whoa, now, wait a moment." my father interjected, holding up a gloved hand, "I knew nothing of this world domination. I thought you were just here for research purposes." He stated, addressing Zim.

The alien shrugged, furrowing his brow in confusion, "I am. I have no idea where Dib got the idea otherwise. Perhaps he's malfunctioning."

"I. Am. Not. Malfunctioning!" I shouted. I resumed my frantic pointing, "He! Is an Alien!"

"Yes, Dib, we KNOW, already!" My sister insisted. She pressed one hand to her forehead, desperately trying to keep her temper. After a moment she pushed herself away from the table and stood, "Whatever, I'm getting my backpack." she stated as she pushed past me and left the kitchen.

Zim stood as well, walking slowly towards me with one hand outstretched cautiously, the way one would act while approaching a strange animal, "I don't know what's gotten into you, Dib Human, but—"

"Get away from me!" I shouted, backing away as he advanced.

"Dib!" My mother interjected in a tone that normally would make me feel ashamed of myself.

"Mom, you don't get it! In my reality—" I cut myself short, realizing that I had already said too much. Any more and I would end up in a straightjacket.

"_Your_ reality?" Zim asked, confused, stopping his approach, "What are you_ talking_ about, Human?"

"I mean…umm," I had to backtrack, quickly, "These…dreams I've been having…in them—"

"Are you confusing your dreams with reality, son?" My father asked, his voice filled with a mixture of fatherly concern and scientific curiosity.

"No! What I mean is—"

"Dib, look." Zim interrupted, "I don't know what has gotten into you, but you're acting crazy. You know just as well as everyone else in your family does that I'm here on a research mission from Irk to decide whether or not this planet is the right location to build a space port. In fact, you should know better than anyone, seeing as you're the one who saw my disguise in the first place. We've been over this, before, and I've let you in on all of my findings and reports. I figured by now you would trust me." He gave me a hurt looking glare, then, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown, "I guess not, though."

He shook his head and started past me out of the kitchen, "I'll wait for you in the living room with Gaz. Hurry up and eat, we're going to be late." he stated as he passed.

I stared after him for a moment before turning and facing my parents who were looking at me with matching expressions of worry on their faces.

"Dib, honey, maybe you shouldn't go to school today. I think that you need some rest. You're obviously under a lot of stress—" my mom began.

I cut her off, "No, it's ok. I…I just feel a little off. Didn't get much sleep last night. I just…need to wake up a bit. I'll be fine, don't worry."

I walked over to the table and grabbed a waffle, taking a bite out of it as I moved to the other side of the table to kiss my mother on the cheek. "I gotta go. Don't wanna be late. I'll see you after school." That said, I grabbed my bag from where I dropped it in the doorway and started out of the room.

"Dib—" my mother's voice pleaded from behind me.

"I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll apologize to Zim. I'll see you, tonight." I stated and left the room.

Fitting into this reality was going to be harder than I thought, and I didn't even know what the actual challenge was, yet.

Great.

oooIIIooo

"So, really, what's gotten into you, Human?" Zim asked as we made our way to school. Gaz was walking a few paces ahead of us, blabbing on her cell phone to one of her friends who she would no doubt see in a few minutes, but she was thirteen and I guess what thirteen year old girls _did_ was run up minutes on their cell phones for no reason.

I looked at the alien out of the corner of my eye, his features becoming blurry in the blind spot where my glasses didn't cover. "What's it to you?"

He let his breath out in a frustrated huff. "Whatever. I'm tired of trying. Catch up with me when you're normal again." he muttered, and quickened his pace to catch up with Gaz, leaving me alone behind them. My sister, noticing Zim beside her, must have made an excuse to her friend on the other end of the phone, because after a few seconds she clicked it closed and slipped it into her pocket.

I sighed, tugging a little harder on the straps of my book bag as I trudged along behind them. At least this gave me a few moments to myself in order to collect my thoughts, but the last thing I wanted to do in this reality was alienate (haha, funny, Dib) anyone. Still, this strange place that I found myself dropped into was a little more than I could handle at the moment. My family being whole and stable? Zim not being bent on world conquest? My sister being a decent human being? Next thing you know, I'm going to wind up having—

"Hey, Dib, wait up!"

--friends.

I stopped, turning to see who had called out to me. A boy in a rather baggy black t-shirt was running full speed towards me, his head down to make him that much faster seeing as one of his arms was plastered at his side to keep his messenger bag in place. I patiently waited for him to catch up, more out of curiosity than anything else.

He reached me after a few seconds and raised one hand, silent requesting a moment to catch his breath as stood with his hands on his knees. After a few seconds he straightened up so I could see his face.

It was not at all who I was expecting.

Though, come to think of it, I really don't _know_ who I was expecting.

But this _defiantly_ wasn't him.

I could feel irritation building up in my chest as Erin gave me a lopsided little grin. "Hey." she greeted me. It was all I could do not to hit her with my bag.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I hissed.

She looked hurt for a moment and ran her hand through her now short and choppy hair. "Look, Dib, I don't have a lot of time—"

"Dib?" Gaz's voice interrupted from behind us. I glanced over my shoulder, surprised that she and Zim had stopped when I did to wait for me. I didn't think they had been paying attention, what with the whole Zim being mad at me thing and all. "You coming?"

I glanced back at Erin who shook her head almost imperceptibly. Frowning, I turned back, "I'll meet you guys there, I need to talk to…this person…for a minute."

Both Gaz and Zim's frowns looked surprisingly alike at my answer, but they shrugged and continued on without me.

With them gone, I tuned back towards my misguided former Guide. "Well?" I asked, wanting to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

She scowled at me, rubbing her nose where her glasses no longer rested, a recognizable trait of someone not used to wearing contacts, "What do you mean 'well'? What are you all grumpy about?"

I was trying very hard to keep my temper. While I didn't really believe all of Stan's 'explaination' as to what all was going on and J and Erin's motives for helping me, that didn't mean that I wasn't a little perturbed at the fact that I hadn't been told the whole truth.

"What do you _think_ I'm all grumpy about? You _lied_ to me!" I hissed, barely able to control my voice, my hands in tight fists at my side.

Ok, so maybe I was A Lot perturbed.

Erin at least had the decency to look surprised. "What? What are you talking about, Dib?"

"You. You and J. You lied to me. You lied to me about being alone in this Test, about me having to have my memories erased for all of them, about, about everything!" I was very close to shouting, now, gesturing wildly with my hands and arms.

Erin glared at me in a way that was very much like my sister, "Look, Dib, I'll admit that we might not have told you _everything_ but that doesn't mean that we _lied_ to you about anything."

"Oh yeah? Well what about the fact that you're even here? Huh? You told me that I would have to be alone in this Test because you couldn't get into it, but you seem to have made it here ok, after all." I was shouting, now. Screw it if anyone overheard. Most of the town probably thought I was crazy anyhow. This reality couldn't be _that_ much different from my own.

Erin ran a hand through her hair. I sensed that she was mentally counting to ten or something close to it. "Dib. Look at me." she began, her voice dangerously quiet, "Remember what we told you about this Test? Androgynous energy. Look at me. The only way that I could get in here was to chop off my hair and almost kill myself by binding my breasts under this shirt so that I could pass for something like a sexless twelve year old kid from far away. Even this way I have very limited time before the Powers realize that I'm not really Androgynous and zap my ass out of here. I put myself in a very dangerous situation here for you, and I'm not going to just sit here and let you accuse me of doing anything but keeping your best interests in mind!"

We locked eyes for a moment, both our jaws stubbornly set. I didn't want to believe her. I didn't want to _not_ believe her, either. I wanted to just go home and forget that any of this ever happened—wake up and find out this whole thing—the accident, the coma, the Tests, all of it—was just one giant bad dream.

"Why?" I asked.

Erin shook her head in confusion, "What?"

"Why are you even bothering if you have so much at risk by being here? Don't you and J think that I could handle this on my own?"

"Look, Dib, that's—"

"No," I cut her off, "No, I don't want to hear any excuses, and reasons. Forget it. You told me that I'm going to have to do this on my own, even though Stan told me otherwise—"

"But—"

I held up a hand, not wanting to be interrupted, "—Even though Stan told me otherwise, and I am going to keep on that train of thought and do this myself. Actually, the way things look to be going here, I might not even _want_ to go back when the moment presents itself. This world is perfect, why would I want to go back to hell?"

Erin threw her arms into the air in frustration, "Because if you don't you'll end up in Hell for Real! Don't you understand, Dib? There are great things planned for you!"

"No! Shut up! I'm tired of hearing about these Great Plans you and J keep alluding to! I'm not going to be your pawn, Erin. I may not be real, but I'm still in control of my own destiny. I'm still in control of myself."

"You're not _our_ pawn, Dib, but if you choose to believe what Stan has told you, and ignore everything that J and I have done for you, I guarantee that you _will_ be_ his_."

I glared down at her, "And when that time comes, then we'll see who's the one really in control."

We stood in silence a few moments more, and then Erin suddenly raised a hand to her ear, her features freezing in shock. "Shit! That's J. They've discovered my signature. Dib, you have to listen to me: you're running out of time. Ignore anything this world shows you—it's a lie. Everything is a lie, you—"

I could feel my gaze growing colder as I looked at her panicked face, and turned away, "And you know all about lies, _don't _you, Erin?" I called back to her as I started to walk away, "I have to go, now. I'm gonna be late. Good luck with the police or whatever the Powers are sending after you."

I blocked out the sound of her calling my name as it grew fainter behind me. A few minutes later I thought I heard a scream and turned back to see what had happened, but the sidewalk behind me was empty.

She was gone.

I stood looking at the place where she had been standing for a few moments, my heart pounding out a wild rhythm in my chest. Maybe I….No. No, I was in the right here. They wanted me to do this on my own, I was going to do it on my own. I didn't need their help.

I didn't need anyone.

oooIIIooo

The school day passed by relatively quickly. I noticed that, while I wasn't the most popular kid in school, I wasn't being harassed by anyone, either. A few people had actually even made the effort to say hi or wave to me in the halls.

Lunchtime arrived and, after I received my tray of that day's "fine gourmet cuisine", I made my way to the usual table where Gaz and I usually sat. I wasn't really all that surprised to see Zim at the table as well, though the addition of Gretchen, The Letter M, Dirge (who had thankfully gotten over his "look at my toes" stage), and Brian was a bit of a shock. No one at the table was considered "popular" in my Reality by any means, but there they were still higher on the social ladder than I was. Not that I was complaining by any means, it was just different.

I took the empty seat by Gretchen, who smiled at me shyly, displaying a perfect row of teeth that years of ridicule and thousands of dollars in orthodontist bills had provided. I smiled back, which, for some reason, caused to her blush a bit and then focus adamantly on the consumption of her roast beef sandwich. I shrugged and turned my attention to the tray of food in front of me. At least one thing was the same in both this Reality and my own: girls were strange.

"Hey, Doofus, have you stopped being crazy, yet?" Gaz's voice broke through my thoughts. I looked at her, cocking my head a bit in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling better from this morning? Do you know whether or not you're dreaming, anymore?" She clarified, an impatient tone in her voice, though the look on her face was one of good natured amusement.

"Dream? Ha. This place is a nightmare." The Letter M piped in, before taking a bit of his Twinky.

I joined in the chorus of chuckles, and then shrugged, "Yeah, I'm ok. I don't know what came over me. Must have still been partially asleep."

"Good," she answered, "I'd hate to see you get locked up for being all crazy like—then I'd get stuck doing your half of the chores."

Zim snorted, "You make that sound as if you even bother doing _your_ half of your household's chores."

Another round of laughter as Gaz's cheeks coloured, indignantly, "Shut up, Tongue Boy, I do my share!" she protested, "'Sides, not everyone can have a little robot to clean their houses for them."

Now it was Zim's turn to turn a bit darker, "Yeah, well…I have important work to focus on."

"'Tongue Boy'?" Brian cut in, "Whoa, now, what have _you two _been up to?"

"Well, you see—"

"No, you don't get it, this morning—" both Gaz and Zim spoke at the same time, stammering in the face of Brian's insinuation. Again, everyone laughed. I took a deep breath, relaxing. I never really had a group of people I could laugh with. It was nice.

As my sister and Zim continued to protest, arguing good naturedly with the others at the table, I let my eyes wander around the room. So this was what high school was like for the "normal" kids. This is what it was like to go through a day without ridicule or scorn or an extraterrestrial death ray pointed at your head. This was what it was like to be accepted and cared about. I didn't know how to really react to it all. I was overwhelmed.

As I let my eyes scanned the room, I found myself unconsciously staring at another boy across the room. There was something…wrong about him. Something…off. The distraction slowly pulled me from my thoughts and I found myself squinting to get a better look at him. Yes, there was something defiantly wrong about him. Something having to do with his clothes, or maybe his strange lock shaped necklace, or was it hit too pale skin colour, or his fangs and horns and the fact that he had the number six-six-six written across his forehead…Holy Crap!

"Holy crap, guys! That kid is the Anti-Christ!" I shouted, standing up so quickly in my chair that it fell over with a clatter, and pointing wildly.

The cafeteria fell silent as the kid in question looked up at me, surprised, then at the wide eyed boy next to him, who let out a frightened squeaking noise.

The Letter M snorted, "Yeah, right, Dib, just like Zim's an alien."

The cafeteria broke out into a roar of laughter. Looking around I saw that everyone was pointing at me, their mouths open and gaping as they laughed. A few kids were banging on the table with mirth. I could feel my face heat up as the blood rushed to my cheeks in both embarrassment and anger.

I turned towards Zim and pointed, "But he _is_! He _is _an alien!" I shouted.

The cafeteria was suddenly quiet again. Letter M looked at me, his brow furrowed in confusion, "Dude, I know. That's what I just said: that kid's the Anti-Christ, just like Zim, here, is an alien. This is a magnet school for the strange and unusual. You know that. How else would Dirge be here with his fucking freak toes?"

Dirge threw a grape at M's head, which bounced off and landed in my sister's coke.

"Ew, Gross!"

"Good shot, man." M stated, rubbing the side of his head. He turned back to me, "Anyhow, Pepito's a year or so under us. His dad is Satan. You went to the Barbeque they had on Labor Day—don't you remember?"

I sat back down, feeling that familiar heat in my face, "I…uh…" I stammered, trying to come up with a viable excuse, even though inside I was celebrating. The paranormal was accepted here? People in this Reality not only accepted and understood the unexplainable, but it was a day to day occurrence? Amazing!

"He's been sick. That fever that's been going around," Gretchen spoke up. Everyone turned to look at her, "Right, Dib? Did you like that soup I brought over the other day?"

"I…um…" I still couldn't seem to get my mouth to work as I tried to understand Gretchen's motives for coming to my rescue, "Uh…yeah! Yeah, I liked it, a lot, thank you! Guess it made me feel so much better that I thought I could come to school today, but I guess I'm not as better as I thought. Heh."

Everyone turned and looked at Gaz, as if for conformation of Gretchen and I's story. She shrugged, "Hey, Zim and I were at MegaCon all weekend, how would I know whether or not he was sick?"

Just then, the bell rang, and everyone started getting their things together to make their way back to class. I let out a relieved breath and hurried towards the mass of kids to catch up with Gretchen, who had somehow managed to get up faster than me.

I finally reached her and grabbed onto the strap of her messenger bag to get her attention. "Thanks, I owe you one." I stated, smiling.

She smiled back , blushing, "Don't worry about it." she replied. Then, with another smile, she hurried forward, turning the corner to get to class.

"_Somebody's_ got a _girlfriend_," Zim's voice sing-songed from behind me. I paused long enough to let him catch up.

"I do, not." I protested as Dirge and Letter M caught up with us.

"Hey, man, you could do a lot worse than Gretch." M chimed in.

"Yeah," Dirge agreed, "You could realize you're gay and go out with Zim!"

I groaned as Zim and Letter M stopped mid stride, "Is…that even possible?" He turned to Zim, "I mean, are you really even a guy?"

Zim looked indignant, "Yes, I am a male, you filthy human!"

Dirge laughed, "Man, you're so lying, you wore a dress all through elementary school!"

"I was not a DRESS! Dare you insult the masculinity of the great ZIM!" the alien shouted, sounding much more like the Zim that I knew back home.

"Oh, come on, Space Boy," I laughed, feeling a bit more at ease, "I've seen those eyelash curlers you hide in your bathroom cabinet!"

"I don't even HAVE eyelashes!"

"Excuses!" Letter M scoffed, sending us all back into another fit of laughter. Zim's irritated expression softened a bit, now that he realized we were just teasing him, but before he could say anything else in protest, the bell rang, signaling that we were all late for class, and sending us running down the hall at full speed.

I chuckled a bit as I ran, feeling good about things for the first time in a long time.

Boy, was I in trouble.

oooIIIooo

I put my dirty glass into the dishwasher, and noticed that it was full. Well, if nothing else, at least Gaz's laziness was as consistent in this Reality as it was in mine, unless our chores had been switched. Out of habit more than anything else, I pulled open the door to the cabinet under the sink, and grabbed one of the gel packets from their box, placing it into the designated compartment on the dishwasher door. Closing the appliance and flicking the switch to turn it on, I grabbed another gel packet from under the sink and hopped up onto the kitchen counter. For some reason, squishing the gel around beneath its dissolvable plastic packaging always helped me think better. Calmed me down or something. I didn't really know.

What I did know, however, was that I was royally fucked, and that I did _not_, by any means, like this Test. At least in the other Realities there had been some sort of conflict, something that made me want to change who I was or what my situation in life was becoming. Here, there was…nothing. No conflict, no problems, just the Dream that I had always had of my parents being happy, and my sister being humane and of having friends and being respected and everything that I had always wanted. There had to be _some_ sort of catch—_something_ that was a complete and total farce put up there for my own and others' benefits, something completely and utterly Wrong in a universe that was so Right.

I began to focus my thoughts on who was acting the most out of character from what I knew. Zim was, of course, the first person that sprung to mind, but then again, he had shown himself a valuable ally as well as an enemy on countless occasions. While we hadn't always gotten along, it had been proven that we could cohabitate the same area and work for a common cause relatively well, so really, seeing as how he didn't have any reason to take over the earth, the fact that he and I were friends wasn't really _that_ unbelievable.

My parents…well, without really remembering that much about my mother, and with my father being away at work all the time, I really didn't have much to go on, there. I could only assume that they had been happy before my mother's death and could only therefore assume that they would continue to be happy if she had never died.

Which led me at last to…Gaz. Now _there_ was someone who was acting completely different than I would expect. Granted, she still had her moments of bitchiness and anger, but with our parents around to balance it all out, as quick as she was with an insult, she was just as quick with an apology. If only I had a way to test her without out parents being around to see how she would react in this Reality to something that would normally get me killed in mine.

It was then that I conveniently noticed the note on the bulletin board that my family kept on the wall next to the kitchen table. It was signed Mom and Dad and stated that they were going to be late coming home because they had a dinner engagement with another couple after they both got out of work, so they would be headed straight there. It also reminded both my sister and I that it was my turn to cook, and Gaz's turn to do the dishes. The persistent clunking of the dishwasher running made me wonder whether or not Gaz would adhere to these rules later on in the night, seeing as how I was the one who noticed that the dishwasher was full from breakfast.

I realized that tonight would be my best chance out of any for me to run my experiment. A quick glance at the clock showed that I had an hour before she returned from her after school gamer meeting, which really only gave me a limited time to figure out what trick to play on my unsuspecting sister. As much as my self preservation instincts were telling me otherwise, I knew that I needed to do something that would surely invoke her wrath enough to get me killed. Nothing mildly annoying would do.

While I thought, I must have pressed onto the small gel packet a bit harder than I had originally intended, either that, or the sweat from my fingers was dissolving the water soluble packaging because before I knew it I felt the pressure of the packet give, and heard a small squirting sound as it exploded. Looking down I saw that the front of my shirt was now drenched with the stuff. Great.

I pulled the shirt over my head and ran it under the tap in the sink to try and get the majority of the gunk off. I was surprised that the detergent didn't create the amount of bubbles that normal dishwashing soap did and found an even greater surprise when the spot where the soap had been was revealed to have become discoloured. Great. My favorite shirt had a giant white spot on it now thanks to a little…bleach? There was bleach in the dishwashing detergent?

My mind started moving a mile a minute, trying to connect this new found information to what I knew of Gaz's daily habits. Her routine couldn't be _that_ much different in this world, and I knew that the first thing she did whenever she got home, always, was to take a shower, because the grunginess of our school and having to touch the world's filthy reality for six hours made her feel gross. This knowledge, mixed with the newfound discovery of the contents of the water soluble gel packets made something click in my head, and in a flash, I had grabbed another one from the box under the sink and made my way upstairs to the bathroom.

If this didn't get me killed, nothing would, but it would defiantly be worth it.

oooIIIooo

5:07 pm.

Gaz walked in the front door, slamming it behind her as she shook off from the rain. Glancing up from the book I had been reading on the couch, I began to wonder if this really was that great of a time to pull my little trick, based on the fact that she was soaking wet and didn't seem the least bit happy about it. Guess it had started to rain since I had been home. It nothing else, this almost guaranteed the she would head straight to the shower in order to get warm and into a change of dry clothing.

"Is it raining?" I asked, knowing the response that I would receive. I was surprised, however, that she only shot me an irritated glare, and not a scathing comment or punch to the kidney to accompany it.

Dropping her book bag into the corner, she made her way through the living room and to the stairs, pausing only long enough to look around and ask, "Where's Mom and Dad?"

I didn't even look up from my book, determined to irritate her as much as I possibly could by taking advantage of every pet peeve I could think of, "They went out to dinner with some friends. We're on our own for dinner."

"Oh yeah," she answered, "who's turn is it to cook?"

I caught myself before I showed that I was startled by her question. I figured that she would just assume I would cook dinner for her, "Umm…mine, I think. What do you want?"

"Just make some pasta or something—will be less for me to clean up afterwards." she replied. Before I my shock could register or I could reply I heard her heavy boots clomp up the stairs.

I forced myself to not have any second thoughts. This was in the name of science, after all…or something.

5:16 pm.

I heard the water start to run in the upstairs bathroom.

5:18 pm.

The shower curtain shrieked closed and I could faintly hear a few lines of song as my sister sang some metal song off key. Guess she had gotten the shower radio to work. If she didn't kill me, I would have to ask her the secret, since all I could ever get out of it was static.

I read the same sentence in my book over and over again, not really understanding the words, with anticipation of my sister's reaction crawling up my throat like some angry creature. Even if I did manage to find the composure to keep reading, my hands were shaking too badly to keep the book still, anyhow.

5:39 pm.

The water was shut off. The curtain shrieked open.

5:41 pm.

The silence in the house was shattered by an ear piercing scream.

I could hear the door being flung open and my sister's small, but angry footsteps on the stairs.

Looking up from my book towards the landing, it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

Gaz had obviously taken the time to dry off and start to get dressed before looking in the mirror, because she stood at the bottom of the stairs, seething with fury, in a t-shirt which wasn't quite long enough to hide her black underwear. Her long hair was soaking the shoulders of the shirt as she stood with her fists clenched at her side, her chest heaving with anger.

"What. Did. You. Do. To. The. Shower. Dib?" she hissed.

I tried to pay attention, but my focus was solely on her hair. Her poor, distorted hair. The bleach from the detergent packet had done a pretty good job in pulling most of the colour from it, and it hung in thick, wet, tangled, blond chunks, which made sense, because if she hadn't had the presence of mind to put on pants, I doubted she decided to expend enough time and energy to run a brush through her hair.

I really couldn't stand it much longer. There was very little of Gaz to be frightened of when she looked like a prissy blond cheerleader who had been caught in the rain. I decided that she was probably going to kill me no matter what and let a snort of laughter pass my lips, followed by a full out onslaught of the stuff, which made me think that I probably needed to laugh more because, man, it was fun.

I held my side as I laughed, pointing at Gaz in all of her bleached blond fury. "You…" I gasped, trying to form words, "you look like an idiot!" That said, I lapsed into a fresh wave of mirth, almost falling off the couch it was so strong.

I settled myself down enough to notice Gaz's eyes close in a glare, her brows furrowed dangerously. I had time to think only the word 'shit', before she lunged, tackling me to the floor. I braced myself for the impact of her small body, and even more so for the onslaught of punches that would surely follow, but then noticed that what she was attacking me with wasn't making me scream. No, in fact it was making me laugh all the harder, this time against my will.

Gaz had countered my joke and ridicule with…tickles? _That_ was this Gaz's ultimate weapon? Tickling?

After a few moments I realized how effective of a weapon it really was because no one really likes to be tickled. I tried to catch her hands in mine, in an attempt to pull her off of me, but managed really only to open myself to further poking.

"Gaz…" I gasped, "Stop…you win…stop..."

"Say uncle." she growled, though from the look in her eyes she was having a hard time continuing to be mad. Looks like this Gaz didn't really hold a grudge, either. Strange.

"U…un…uncle!" I shouted, and she rolled off of me, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a satisfied smirk on her face as she waited for me to catch my breath.

After a few moments I was able to sit up, and did so, leaning against the side of the couch.

"How?" my sister asked, glaring, again, though it held little of it normal malice.

I tried to keep myself from chuckling, again, "Dishwasher packet-thing."

She looked confused for a moment, "There's bleach in those?"

I shrugged, "Looks like it. If it makes you feel any better, in order to discover that, I ruined my favorite shirt."

She frowned a bit, "The blue one?"

I nodded.

"Shitty."

"Yeah."

She caught herself in her moment of empathy for my lost shirt and glared again, "Why?"

Again, I shrugged, not wanting to reveal my true motives, "Why not?" I countered.

She glared a few moments longer and then shrugged, "Makes sense. You know this means war, now, right?"

I chuckled, "I figured as much."

She smiled evilly and stood up. I joined her. She ran a hand through her hair, frowning. "What am I supposed to do with _this, _now?" She muttered.

I shrugged, "Just dye it back your normal colour." I suggested.

She looked at me like I was an idiot, "You expect me to go out in public looking like _this_!"

"What, do you want _me_ to go buy the dye for you?"

The look she gave me was answer enough.

"Huh-uh." I stated, crossing my arms, "It's pouring out there! I'm not walking in the rain to get you hair dye."

Gaz glared at me for another moment and then snapped her fingers. The onslaught of rain on the windows ceased and I could see the faint, fading light of day through the windows. I had forgotten she could do that.

I gave her a confused look, "Wait, why didn't you just do that, before, when you were caught out in it?"

She looked confused for a moment, and then huffed, agitated, "Damn it."

I had to laugh. "Anyhow, what about dinner? If I go out to the store, you're just gonna have to wait _that_ much longer to get fed."

Gaz shrugged, "I'll cook, then. I'll have it waiting when you get back and then you can clean up."

I considered. It seemed like a good deal. Still… "Ok, but only if you cook pasta like originally planned. I don't want to have to clean a million pots and pans."

She smirked, "How bout this: I'll make chicken parmesan, and I'll help dry whatever doesn't fit in the dishwasher. I'm in the mood for a little more than pasta, anyhow, but you're right that it wouldn't be fair."

She looked confused at my obvious expression of shock at the word 'fair' escaping her lips, but shrugged as she continued, "'Sides, if I made you clean a million dishes, that might count as my revenge, and that's a boring counter attack."

I chuckled. "Alright, deal, then. I'll be back in a little while. Do we need anything else from the store while I'm there?"

Gaz was already making her way to the kitchen, "Umm…I think we could use some milk. Mom used up a lot of what was left with the waffles this morning." she called back over her shoulder.

"Right. Milk. Okay, be back soon." I made my way to the door, grabbing my coat on the way. As an after thought, I called back over my shoulder, "You better have dinner on the table by the time I get home, woman."

A dishtowel flew out of the kitchen with enough speed and force to smack me in the face. I laughed and set it on the table by the door as I left.

oooIIIooo

The next week or so went by relatively uneventfully. My life resumed its previous routine of school, chores, paranormal research (though at this point there really was very little left undiscovered, which bothered me slightly for a reason that I couldn't really explain). I became accustomed to this new and improved version of pretty much everyone I knew and felt more at home than I had in my entire life.

Maybe I didn't have to go back, after all. Maybe I could just "fail" this Test and live a few more weeks in paradise before my dad pulled the plug on my body back in the Waking world. I figured that this might be as close to heaven as I was going to get, so why not make the best of it while I could?

The phone rang.

"I got it!" I shouted in the direction of the rest of the house as I picked up the cordless that sat in its charger by my bed. "Hello?"

"Dib. It's J. I don't have much time, so—"

I could feel the anger and irritation at my former Guide's voice welling up within me, "I don't want to talk to you, J." I growled.

"Yes, I figured as much, but you don't really have a choice, here."

"Choice? Oh, I think I have a pretty big choice, here. I could just hang up, how's that choice for you?"

I heard J sigh on the other end, "Look, Dib, I know you're a little upset—"

"'A little upset'?" I laughed without much humor, "I think that's putting it mildly, dude. I'm pretty pissed. Didn't your little spy give you the memo?"

"My little…" he trailed off, a bit confused, "Oh, you mean Erin. No, she didn't get a chance to tell me anything. She's been…detained."

I was a bit confused, "Detained? You mean she's in jail?"

"Breaking into a Test isn't an offense to be taken lightly up here."

"Huh." I was silent for a moment and I thought about what he had just said, "But still, if it was so dangerous, why didn't _you_ do it? Why did you send her?"

J sighed again, this one sounding a bit more irritated than the first, "Do you really think that I could have made myself pass for Androgynous? Erin is a _girl_, chop the hair, stick her in baggy clothes, and at first glance you can't tell if she's a skinny girl or a pre-pubescent boy. It was just _easier_ that way. The plan was fool proof. If you would have just _listened _to her—"

"Oh, so now it's _my_ fault." I interrupted.

Another sigh, "I'm not saying that. It's no one's fault, but we're wasting time arguing about this."

"You're right, we are, because I already made my decision: I'm not going back." I stated.

"Don't be so quick, there, Dib," J warned.

"Really? Why? Did I fail the test now? Is my Soul eternally damned?"

"Well, no, not yet—you still have a bit of time before the actual challenge presents itself, but you need to have your mind focused on what your goal should be, and your goal should be getting back to your Reality and the Waking World, _not_ sticking around in a some mockery of perfection."

"Well, maybe I _want_ perfection, whether it's a mockery or a lie or not. Did you ever think of that?" I was almost shouting, now, and I had to consciously control my breathing lest I let my anger get out of hand.

"Everyone wants a perfect life, Dib, but—"

"But nothing. I don't want to go back, J. Maybe when the time comes for me to actually make the decision, I'll change my mind, but as it is, I doubt it. I'm hanging up, now, I'm tired of this conversation."

"Wait, Dib—"

"Goodbye, J." I stated, and clicked the button to end the call.

My mom poked her head into my room, "Who was that, Hun? You sounded kind of upset."

I shook my head and replaced the phone on the charger, "Wrong number." I replied.

She smiled, oddly, "Ah. Well, I'm about to make some dinner. You wanna help me with the meat balls?"

I smiled back, thankful for the normalcy of her request, "Sure, Mom, I'll be right down."

She smiled again, in parting, and left the doorway. I could hear her footsteps on the stairs. Walking towards the door, myself, I chanced one more glance at the phone, expecting it to ring; expecting J to be persistent that I listen to him.

The phone stayed silent.

Figures.

oooIIIooo

A year went by. Two. Life fell into a pattern of normalcy. Gaz remained placid (even though her hair ended up turning and staying a cotton candy pink colour after the bleaching incident. She had been so preoccupied with de-blonding herself that she didn't read the instructions on the dye box specifically warning her about colouring newly bleached hair. She got me back by putting itching powder in my boxers. All of them), Zim moved ahead with his research and it was looking more and more certain daily that Earth was going to be home to the newest Irken Space Port, my parents stayed happy, everything was great.

Everything was a bit Too great.

The longer I stayed in the Test, the more I realized that there was no adventure in this world; no challenge. After spending two or three years having your life threatened by alien technology on a daily basis, the ho hum routine of normal living becomes a bit…dull.

Before I knew it, it was my Senior year and my desk was piled high with brochures and letters from different universities all across the country. Some of them were begging to have me come (nothing like perfect SAT scores to open up a college's wallet), throwing scholarships and grants at me like there was no tomorrow. All I had to do was choose.

Choosing seemed to be the hardest part.

Every time I would mention it to my family, while Gaz would call dibs on my room, and Dad would continue to talk me into choosing Real Science for my major instead of journalism, Mom would…become oddly silent. Oh, she would smile and laugh and encourage me to apply to as many colleges as I thought were necessary, but there was something wrong with her; something behind her eyes that she wasn't showing.

Every day, it seemed, she would come into my room with another packet or envelope from yet another college wanting me to sign up, and as she placed it on my desk, we would have the same conversation:

"This is a nice school, but are you sure you don't want to just go to the University in town? It's a very good school—both your father and I went there, and I'm pretty sure that's where Zim said he would be continuing his research mission…"

I would put down whatever book I was reading or turn my chair away from the computer so I could see her better, and reply, "Yes, Mom, I know, and I'm thinking about it, I really am, I just want explore all my options, first."

She would smile and nod, saying, "Yes, I know dear. You've always been the curious one…just…ah, never mind."

And on that note she would leave the room, shutting my door partway behind her, leaving me with a stack of college brochures and a strangely guilty conscience.

oooIIIooo

"So you decide on a school, yet?" Zim asked me as we lay on the roof of my house some point towards the end of Senior year.

I shook my head, "Nah, I can't make up my mind."

"Why not? I mean, you have schools throwing money at you. You could go anywhere in the country."

"I know," I replied, sighing, "believe me, I know, but…"

Zim rolled over so that he was lying on his side, facing me, "But…?"

Again, I shook my head, "I don't know, man, I think I might just stay here. Go to school in town. What do you think?" I turned my head to look at him.

"I think that you need to have your brain meats scanned."

"No, Zim, I'm serious," I started, leaning up on my elbows.

"And so am I. Why would you want to stay here?"

"I…" I laid back down, "I don't know. It's just that, I mean, everything I need is here, right? I mean, I have Gaz—"

"Who will be graduating next year, and you know she has her heart set on the video game design program at that media school in Florida." Zim interrupted me.

"And the guys—"

"Who are all going to different schools around the country."

"They are?"

Zim raised a nonexistent eyebrow at me, "Yeah, Remember? Brain's going to that school in Michigan, Dirge to Chicago, Letter M to NYU…don't you pay any attention?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, but…guess I forgot. Anyhow, Gretch is staying here. We were talking about maybe getting a place together in the city—"

"And let me guess, you guys are gonna eventually get married and she's gonna pop out 2.5 crying, screaming, pooping worm babies, and you're gonna bring home the pig strips, right?"

I scrunched up my face in disgust, "Well not if you put it _that _way." I paused, considering, "Though, ya know, that might not be that bad…I mean, Gretchen is a nice girl. I wouldn't mind maybe settling down, starting a family—OW!" I rubbed my arm where Zim had just punched me out of my dazed daydreams, "What the hell did you do _that _for?"

"You were talking craziness, again. You, of all people, should _not_ breed."

I scowled at the alien, "Like _you_ should?" I countered.

"My species doesn't have to. All of our smeets come from synthetically genetically engineered DNA. You know that." Zim explained, smirking.

"Yeah, well…" I started, still rubbing my arm, "you suck."

Zim laughed, and lied back down.

We were silent for a few moments, staring up at the sky above us.

"Zim?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, Dib?"

"You…you ever wonder what's out there?"

The alien shrugged, "Filling stations, mostly."

I looked over at him, sharply, before I realized that he was still looking up at the stars, and probably thought I was speaking literally. "No, that's not what I mean." I replied, shaking my head, "I don't mean out there, out there. I don't mean the stars, I mean beyond this city, in other towns in other states, in other _countries_, even. What else is out there in the world to be discovered? What adventures could be waiting…"

He shrugged, again, "I've seen it all, mostly, so I don't really _have_ to wonder. You forget, I'm a good three hundred years older than you. You can do a lot of traveling in that time." He turned his head to look at me, "Why don't you go traveling yourself? Go see the world? Take a year off school and just roam around?"

I sighed, "I would love to, but…"

"…But?"

"But…there's my mom. I don't want to really leave her. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be a momma's boy or anything," I explained quickly at Zim's sharp look, "but she just…gets so upset whenever my leaving is brought up. She always looks so sad…" I shook my head, "I don't know. It's stupid."

Zim shook his head, as well, "No, Dib, it's not. Finding a place where you belong, having people who love you, feeling wanted and needed, for once—that'd be hard for anyone to leave behind." His voice grew softer, and he started again up at the sky, "There are some people who can only dream of having something like that."

"Yeah…" I agreed, thinking back on the Reality I had decided to leave behind. I was still ever watchful for the Pinnacle Moment, the true Challenge, as it were, but in my mind and heart, I had pretty much decided against ever returning.

We were quiet another moment, before I decided to speak up, again. "I'd have you. You're staying here."

Zim sighed. "You're right on that one, Dib Worm. I'm still gonna be here when everyone else is gone."

I looked over at him, surprised by the sudden morose tone in his voice. "Why do you sound so upset?"

"Huh?" He looked over at me, startled, "Oh, well…the Tallests sent me a message yesterday. About the whole space port thing."

"Really?" I leaned up on my elbows, anxious for the news, "Why didn't you say anything, before? What happened? What'd they say?"

He sighed, again, moving his head so that he was facing away from me, "They told me…they said…there…there isn't going to be a space port, here. There…there were never plans to build one in the first place."

I was taken aback, "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"The Tallests…they sent me here on a false mission. On my home planet, I'm considered a nuisance; a screw up. They sent me here to get me out of their hair. There was no plan for a Space Port—Earth is too far away from any planet that my species have colonized or traded with to be of much use, and the people here, well…" He shuddered, and shrugged, still not facing me, "You get the idea."

I didn't know what to say for a moment, so I didn't say anything, letting the information slowly sink in. Zim's…entire reason for being here was a lie? I began to see a bit of a flaw in the perfection of this Reality. Maybe the Test was only a perfect version of _my_ life. For other people, it was still pretty much the same. That didn't quite seem fair. Why should I be happy and content with my life while the people I cared about were suffering?

I reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under my touch for a moment, and then relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Zim. I didn't know. For what it's worth…your leaders kinda suck. They don't know what they're talking about. I mean…they think that sock puppet shows are a viable form of entertainment."

Zim chuckled a bit at that, and then rolled back over toward me, "Yeah, they are kind of idiots, aren't they?" He asked, laughing a bit.

"You know…with your mission ending up, well, not really a mission, you don't _have_ to stay in this town. You could go other places, do other things…" I mentioned.

Zim shrugged, "Well, yeah, I guess you're right, but—"

"Come with me!" I offered, "We could go explore, find some adventures! It would be great!" I was started to get a bit excited in my effort to cheer my friend up. The idea of going off on my own didn't seem that interesting, but the idea of anyone coming with me had never actually crossed my mind, before, and was getting more and more attractive by the moment. It was the perfect plan: it would get Zim's mind off of his banishment, and cheer him up, and I would get to explore the world without being bored and lonely. I would have a friend by my side, a reminder of my perfect life in my perfect dream.

Zim thought for a bit, and then smiled that cheesy zipper toothed grin of his, "Yes! Ok! I'll do it! Let's go!"

He stuck out his hand, I took it and we shook, sealing the deal.

At that moment the ground and the house beneath us started to rumble and shake. We both grabbed on to the roof with both hands, trying to steady ourselves as we bent and swayed with the force of the earthquake. After a few moments it stopped, the only sound being that of the neighbor's car alarm which had been set off.

Zim and I looked at each other, wide eyed.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, trying to steady my voice.

Zim looked as confused as I felt, "Earthquake?" he offered.

I shook my head, "We've never had one, before. That's just weird."

The alien shrugged, and then stood, making his way to the ladder, "Whatever it was, we should probably go back down to check if everyone's ok. Plus we really shouldn't be up here if it happens, again."

I nodded, agreeing, even though he couldn't see me with his back turned, "You're probably right." I replied, and got up, myself, following him to the ladder, and down the side of the house.

oooIIIooo

"Hello!" I called into the darkened house as Zim and I made our way though the living room, carefully stepping around fallen furniture and broken glass. "Mom? Gaz? You here?"

"We're in here," my mom's voice answered from the kitchen.

Zim and I slowly made it to the doorway of the kitchen to see my mom and sister both leaning up against the fridge, trying to push it back into it's place, because it had decided to wander a good three feet away from where it should be. Seeing us standing there, they both gave up and moved away from it, breathing hard from the exertion.

"What was that?" I asked.

They both shrugged. "I don't know," my mother answered, a strange look on her face as she looked at me. Her eyes were almost piercing, an emotion that I couldn't quite place lying beneath their surface, "I just hope your father is alright at the lab."

"I'm sure he's fine," Gaz stated, attempting to reassure her.

My mother nodded, and then looked back at Zim and I, trapping me again in that piercing gaze, "So, what were you boys talking about up there?" she asked.

I smiled, getting excited again about the plan, "Oh! I decided what I'm gonna do after graduation." I answered, moving to pick up a chair where it had fallen. Everyone else in the room followed suit, picking up chairs and closing the cabinets.

"Oh, really?" my mother asked.

I nodded, "Yup. See, I decided that I'm gonna take a year or so off to just…travel around, see what all is out there. Zim's gonna come, too, since he—" I paused, and glanced towards the alien, who was finding something very interesting about the toe of his boot, "—since he is so far ahead on his mission." Zim glanced up at me, quickly, flashing me a surprised little smile.

The ground gave another little shake. Everyone quickly grabbed onto whatever they could to steady themselves, but it passed, quickly.

"Oh." my mother replied, sitting down hard in her chair, "I see."

"Um…yeah." I looked around the room, wildly, paranoid, "Are…are you ok with that?"

She shrugged, "Well, I guess, I mean, I can't stop you, really. Though I don't know why you would want to leave, I mean, you have everything you need right here."

I reached a hand from across the table, placing it lightly on hers, "I know that, Mom, but…but I want to see what else there is out there. I want an adventure. This place is perfect, and will always be perfect, but I want to see if it is also perfect somewhere else. You understand."

Another shake. Zim and Gaz dropped to the floor with this one and just stayed there, holding their hands above their heads.

"What the hell is going on?" Gaz asked, scootching across the floor to the corner of the room. Zim just shrugged.

Our mom didn't even seem to notice. She sighed, "Of course I understand, I mean, we love you, feed you, give you whatever you want or need, and now you want to go see what else there is. You're _bored_, I understand."

I shook my head, becoming a bit disheartened and irritated with the response I was getting, "No, Mom, you don't get it." I insisted, thinking that if she was trying to talk me out of leaving, she was doing a piss poor job at it.

Another quake, this one stronger than the last. I could hear the dishes vibrating in the cupboard. I gripped the table hard with my free hand.

"No, no, I get it. It would be _boring_ here, with just your old Mom and Dad, wouldn't it? Wouldn't be enough _adventure_, no _danger_." The shaking was getting stronger, "You know that if you leave here, you won't find this sort of perfection anywhere else, right? If you go, others might not understand. They might laugh and point and scorn you because you're different, because you're _special_."

I gulped, unnerved by both the incessant shaking of the house and the fact that my mom was seriously starting to creep me out. Some jagged thought was gnawing at the back of my brain. Something about my mom's voice, about the underlying tone of it. It was something that I had heard before, something that was making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"If you leave here, Dib, you may never find this sort of perfection, again. You will have to give all this up. If you leave it may never be the same. Are you willing to take that risk?"

The shaking was growing worse by the minute. The bookshelf in the living room fell over with a crash that resonated through the rest of the house. A few dishes started to fall from the cabinets.

"What are you…" Something was defiantly wrong. This wasn't any normal earthquake. There was something too intense about this moment, something too real.

I went to move my hand from atop my mother's, but she quickly grabbed it and held on, squeezing at a rate that was almost, but not quite painful, her face still turned away from me. Gaz was whimpering in the corner, Zim's arm around her shoulders as dishes and glasses fell and exploded around them.

"You're never going to have anything like this ever again, Dib, if you go, you will have to give all this up. This that what you want? _To give this all way? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?_"

I tried to pull my hand away, so that it could join the other which was currently clapped against my ear, trying uselessly to drown out the increasing volume of the world falling apart around me and my mother's voice.

Something was wrong, something was making this all happen, something having to do with me wanting to leave, with me wanting to find some imperfections in my perfect world: something to discover, to explore; something Real.

"YES!" I shouted above the rising noise, trying to ignore the pain in my hand as my mother gripped it harder, "YES! I WANT TO LEAVE! I WANT TO FIND OUT IF ANYTHING ELSE EXISTS! I'M TIRED OF PERFECTION! I WANT ADVENTURE! I WANT REALITY! I WANT…" I took a deep breath, realizing, finally, what I was doing, what this all meant.

I stopped struggling and grabbed onto my 'mother's' hand, tugging her towards me across the table. She gasped in surprise and instinctually turned to face me, trying to pull free and right herself. In that moment, I saw why she was turning away from be, before. I saw her eyes. They where the same as I had dreamt them, before this whole charade began: red, glowing, evil. The eyes of a demon, of a devil.

The final piece fell into place, the final card making the whole house fall down around us. I strengthened my resolve, pulling her close to me, so I wouldn't have to scream over the noise of the world tearing itself apart.

"I want my life back," I whispered into the struggling form of my mother's ear, "I want to go home."

My mother's body screamed in rage, and turned on me, swiping at me face with a hand that had grown fierce claws. I instinctively let go, allowing myself to fall to the floor.

"_FOOL!"_ the creature screeched. I could hear Gaz over it all, screaming in horror at what was becoming of the woman she knew as her mother, "_IT IS TOO LATE! IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF HOURS BEFORE YOUR BODY IS DESTROYED! YOUR SOUL IS MINE! I'VE WON!_"

I could feel myself growing paler as the blood drained from my face. It was too late? After all that I was going to lose, anyway? I wasn't going to make it? No, no, not after all this, not after all this! I shook my head, fighting away angry, defeated tears.

"No, no you're wrong! I passed! I want something more! I passed the test! You have to let me go! It's the rules! You made a deal!" I shouted.

The creature grinned, showing me a mouthful of yellowing, sharp teeth that looked even more grotesque in my mother's face, "You shouldn't make deals with the devil, kid," my mother's body hissed, "Didn't all that reading you do teach you anything? The bad guys. Never. Play. Fair."

There was a noise from the door way. I looked up to see a man standing there, his features hidden in shadows, "And lucky for you, kid, when it comes down to the line--" The man stepped forward, showing himself. I couldn't help a smile as the creature gasped in surprise. "—neither do a lot of the good guys."

"J!" The creature hissed, "How did you get here? You don't have the right Energy! This is breaking all the—"

J chuckled, "Rules? Yeah, well," he shrugged, a maniacal grin spreading across his face, "A little rule breaking never hurt anyone."

The creature screeched, and moved to attack me, reaching out with it's clawed hands. J leaped forward, jumping in between the creature and myself, taking it by surprise. It screamed in anger and slashed out with its claws. J grabbed its wrists, struggling as the creature fought to over power him.

"Nnnggg, Dib! Go! Run!" he shouted, trying to keep the upper hand on the creature.

I just sat there in shock, "No, I can't just run, what about you?"

The world continue to shake, the house creaking with the force as J struggled, "Don't worry about it, I can handle this! Go! You're running out of time!"

I realized that he was right, and slowly climbed to my feet, still hesitant about leaving him there, "But—"

He turned to face me, slowly, the expression on his face a mixture of pain and urgency, "Damnit, Dib, just get the fuck out of here! Run!"

I hesitated only a moment longer and then broke free of whatever internal bonds were holding me, running for the front door for all I was worth, jumping over furniture and dodging knick knacks as they flew from the shelves. I felt a piece of porcelain shrapnel cut into my cheek. Finally I reached the door. With one last look towards the kitchen, I took a deep breath and opened it, stepping over the threshold, into the world beyond.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. I found myself in a completely white hallway, devoid of any distinguishing detail. Surprised, I turned around, back towards where I came, but was greeted only by a white wall. There was no way to go back. I could only go forward.

I turned back around, and noticed, far, far away, at the end of the hall, there was a door. In the door was a key.

Suddenly, a noise broke through the silence:

the constant and unwavering beep of a heart monitor.

* * *

A/n: Dear god, it's 430 in the morning and I have to wake up for work at 9. Crap. Damn my muse for bugging me incessantly till I type exactly what is on my mind. Pooh.

At any rate, there is only one more chapter left. The next one is the last, not including the epilogue/final authors note, where I will be answering any questions that I have received in reviews and not gotten to and any other ones that you guys might have. I also might post up a link to the scrapped Envy chapter for anyone that might be interested. We'll see how that goes.

I have to admit here, that the "filling station" joke is not mine. I stole it…I mean, it's a _reference to_ (hehe) this (http / www . deviantart . com / deviation /17233428 /) piece of fan art by "Windchaser". Go check out her stuff, it's awesome.

Yeah, so, there you go, people. Not much for me to say about this one. I'm anxious to get started writing the finale, but need to get some sleep. Stupid sleep.

As always, R and R and all that, and thank you all for reading this far. It really means a lot to me.

-j


	12. End

A/n: Thank you all for your awesome reviews.

This is the last chapter. Well, story chapter, anyhow. The next one that I put up will be the epilogue and final note, like I did with FPL. This one is a bit shorter than the others, but I think that it says what needs to be said.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Zim.

* * *

You Only Live Twice

PART TWELVE: In which Dib's journey ends.

_Main Entry:** human**  
Function: noun  
a bipedal primate mammal (Homo sapiens) **: MAN**; broadly any living or extinct member of the family (Hominidae) to which the primate belongs_

CRITICAL ERROR:

PROGRAM: DIB.EXE

TERMINATE? Y/N?

…PROCESSING………………………………..

…RETRYING PROGRAM: DIB.EXE……..

CRITICAL ERROR:

PROGRAM: DIB.EXE

ABORT SUGGESTED.

TERMINATE? Y/N?

…PROCESSING…………………………………………..

…RETRYING PROGRAM: DIB.EXE………………

CRITICAL ERROR:

PROGRAM: DIB.EXE

TERMINATE? Y/N?

……PROCESSING…………………………………….

oooIIIooo

The hallway I found myself in was impossibly long, making the door at the end look like the miniature one that Alice had to try and fit though after falling into Wonderland. Part of me wondered if, as I got closer, the door would actually become larger in my perspective, or would it stay the same size, leaving me doomed to stay in this empty, pale white hall unless I ate the correct magical cake, or drank from the right bottle, which would conveniently spring from nothingness. The uncertainty of what I would find once I reached the door made me want to almost stay where I was, for fear of being disappointed—to let my tired legs and mind rest, sleeping away this nightmare that I had found myself immersed in until, when it came time for me to wake, I would find that my eyes would no longer open. My soul was tired from its journey, and had almost decided that death would be a better option than succeeding at my task only to find that it had all been for naught.

Some small voice shouted for me to go onward, however; cried and shook at my mind that I had come So Far, and I was So Close that there was no use giving up, now! I had faced insurmountable odds, and I was going to let this primitive fear of the unknown stop me when I was only feet from the finish line? The unknown was what had always, before, driven me onwards, it was my only purpose in life. How was I to be beaten by my own most desperate desire?

Pushed by this voice, by this urging notion that I Could Not Give Up, and I Must Not Give Up, I moved forward, moving down the blank hall at a quick walk, and then a jog, watching the small door bob in my vision, focusing only on my goal: the way out of this crazy Dream; the way home.

"_Well, Professor, It's been three months."_

A voice, coming out of the whiteness that surrounded me, seemingly coming from both everywhere and nowhere all at once. For some reason it was slightly familiar, though I couldn't quite place from where.

"_Yes, yes it has."_

A second voice: my fathers. Three months had passed in the Waking World. It must be time. They were going to pull the plug. They were going to take my body off life support and then it was Good Night, Gracie, how about another round of applause for our guest, this is Dan Rather, signing off, the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

I quickened my pace, wanting to sprint at full force towards the door that still sat what looked like miles away, but holding myself back, needing to pace myself, not wanting to use up all my energy at once. I had a long way to go, panicking would get me nowhere.

"_Are you sure you want to do this, Professor? As slight as the chance may be, studies have shown that a full recovery _is_ possible with patients in comas lasting longer than three months. I would think that you would want to give your son—"_

"_Every chance, yes I know, Doctor. But you see, his mother…his mother's death was a drawn out, painful one, mostly because of the artificial means that were used to keep her alive past her time. I don't want to make that same mistake, twice."_

"_Yes, of course, Professor, I understand. This sort of decision is never an easy one to make."_

Inch by inch, the door seemed to grow larger as I moved closer. I was beginning to be able to make out the details of it as I ran, a bit quicker, now. It was formed from a plain, dark wood, the knob heavy and brass. Randomly placed here and there were stickers showing UFOs and aliens. I realized that it was the door to my bedroom back home, a heavy iron key in the lock beneath the knob. This realization made my insides feel as if they were going to explode with homesickness, and I stumbled, my feet becoming tangled in themselves with surprise at the intensity of the emotion. Quickly, I righted myself and pressed onward.

"_We will proceed at the top of the hour, as you have directed. I assume that your daughter will be here, as well?"_

"_No, no, she is staying at home. I'd rather spare her these proceedings."_

"_Oh, would you, now?"_

A third voice joined the others. Feminine. Angry. Gaz.

"_I thought you weren't going to kill him until tomorrow, _Dad._"_

I recognized that tone. In my mind's eye I pictured her shaking with fury, her small hands tight knots at her sides.

"_No, Daughter, I didn't want to unnecessarily upset you. I thought that it would be kinder for you to think that he had died naturally before the set date."_

"_You just didn't want me to hate you for killing him."_

"_Professor, should I—"_

"_No, no, Doctor, everything is fine. My daughter here is just a little upset, is all."_

"_You lied to me."_

Moving a little faster, now. Keeping my mind focused on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Nose. Mouth. Nose. Mouth. Along with the incessant beeping of the heart monitor, I could hear the faint ticking of an unseen clock, each second growing louder, filling my ears as I ran. I unconsciously began to match my footsteps to the beat.

"_I just didn't want you to have to face any more unhappiness in your life. You've already seen too much death, Daughter. After watching your mother go, I didn't think that seeing your brother die as well would be very beneficial."_

"_What is his name, Dad?"_

More vicious fury in my sister's monotone voice, though her words startled me enough that I almost tripped myself, again.

"_What?"_

"_Professor, it's almost time."_

"_Yes, I understand., Daughter, if you would like to stay you will have to—"_

"_What is his name_, Dad_?"_

"_Daughter, I—"_

"_What. Is. His. Name? Hell, for that matter, what's _mine_? Do you even know what your children's names are? Do you even really care?"_

The voices above me were silent for a moment; a pregnant pause. After a tense minute, I heard my sister let out a satisfied breath.

"_You don't even know our names, and you expect me to believe that you give a damn about Dib's mental state or about the possibility of my being scared by watching you just give up on him? Just like you gave up on _her_?"_

There was a sharp crack. The sound of a hand encased with rubber hitting skin.

"_Professor!"_

"_Never speak to me that way again, do you understand me? I am only trying to do what is best for you and your brother, just as I tried my hardest to do what was best for your mother. Like it or not, I am still your father, and you will still respect me and treat me as such. I will have no more of your insolence, little girl, do you understand me?"_

Another pause, as tense and uncomfortable as the last. Finally, my sister's voice answered, strained as she spoke through an angrily clenched jaw.

"_Yes, _Sir._"_

"_Good, now then, you may remain here as long as you agree to behave yourself. Another outburst like that and I will send you into the waiting area. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good. Doctor?"_

Close, so close. The door was growing larger as the beeping and ticking of that damned clock grew louder in my ears. Just a little further, now, not long at all, just a little more…

"_Ye…yes, Professor?"_

"_What time do you have?"_

"_I…a minute till, Sir. Again, I must ask you if you are sure about this. There _is_ still a chance that—"_

"_I am sure, Doctor."_

"_Yes, well, then. I suppose we should proceed. Would either of you like to say anything before…"_

Another pause. Come on, Dib, move faster! Push! My legs were burning, the muscles crying out for rest, for relief. The noise of the heart machine and the clock ringing in my ears, threatening to drive me insane, the door still just. Out. Of. My. Reach.

"_Well, then…I guess….we should proceed. Nurse, take this down: Disconnecting Dib Membrane from all life support on this day, June 31st, time: 12:00AM."_

There was a click, and sudden silence as I tumbled forward, my side becoming enveloped in white hot pain. I held my hand over the stitch, trying to massage it out as I stumbled back to my feet, the silence being replaced once again with noise, this time being wet, living: the sound of my lungs and heart as they struggled to continue on their own.

"_Now, I guess, all there is to do is—"_

"_WAIT!"_

Another voice, a fourth to join the crowd of invisible people above me. I winced and smiled at the same time at the grating familiarity of it as Zim burst into the room. I could imagine the startled looks on my family and the medical personnel's faces, focusing on that in an attempt to lesson the pain in my side and tune out the slowing beat of my fading heart.

"_Zim, what are you—"_

"_WAIT! STOP! YOU MUST WAIT! ZIM HAS DONE IT! ZIM HAS GOTTEN THROUGH TO THE DIB! YOU MUST NOT UNPLUG HIM! HE WILL—"_

"_Oh, you must be my son's little foreign friend."_

"_NONSENSE!"_

"_Zim, it's too late."_

"_Too late? No, not too late, you told me that he wasn't going to be unplugged until tomorrow! Your mouth is full of LIES, Dib-sister!"_

"_No, Zim, really. …It's too late. They already unhooked the machines. He's…he's only got a few more…"_

"_But…but…NO! He should have woken up! I hacked into his Dream! I talked him out of staying in his _lies_! I made him wake up! HE SHOULD WAKE UP!"_

So…close…my legs wanted to give out from under me as I heard what seemed to be a struggle from above me.

"_WAKE UP, YOU FILTH! ONLY ZIM CAN DEFEAT YOU, NOT YOUR PATHETIC BRAINS! WAKE UP SO YOU MAY BE DESTROYED BY THE ALMIGHTY ZIM!"_

"_Somebody grab—"_

"_Will you hold—"_

"_Zim, calm—"_

Only a few feet away….I felt my legs finally give out, and I pulled myself forward, combat style, on my elbows. So close…so….

Above me was more sounds of a struggle, more voices joining the chaos, but it was fading, slowly fading out, along with the other noise; that wet, meaty noise, the sound of my life.

Slowly.

Fading.

Finally, I touched the door. Painfully, I reached up, bringing myself to my knees as I slowly turned the key in the knob, hearing the faint 'click' as the tumblers fell out of place.

My hand touched the knob.

All sound ceased.

My world went white.

oooIIIooo

_Open your eyes._

Mom?

_Dib, you need to get up, now. Time to open your eyes._

Mom? But I'm so warm….

_You will still be warm. Open your eyes._

But…

_Open your eyes.  
_

oooIIIooo

Light. Blinding. Hurts. Blurry. Where are my glasses? Can't…why won't my arms move? What's this…hair? Purple? Gaz? She's asleep. Her head…on my stomach...heavy. Glasses. Still can't….damn. Look around. Anyone in the room? Shouldn't wake Gaz. Not pretty when she's woken up. Can't move. Won't be able to defend myself. Blind.

There. In the corner. Green? Green. Moving. Zim. Zim. Here. I'm defenseless. I can't see. Oh shit oh shit oh….

…wait.

Noise. Door. The door is opening. Someone is coming. Must…can't talk. Tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Must have been asleep.

Sleep?

Z?

No.

Gaz. She's moving. Person in the room. Red? Smaller person. Brown. Shapes. Coming close, need to warn them, Zim will, Zim is…

Talking to red person. Voices. Sound. Can't make out what they're saying. Muffled. Tones. Clearer, still, nonsense.

Words.

Want my glasses.

So tired, still. Muffled sounds making it hard to focus. Noise. Buzzing.

Tired.

Brown person coming close.

Purple. Gaz.

Eyes….

Light….

oooIIIooo

I opened my eyes, blinking in the dim morning light. Fumbling blindly on the table beside my bed I searched for my glasses, coming up empty handed. I frowned and squinted towards the night stand. They were always right—

It was then that I realized that I wasn't in my room. That this wasn't my bed. Instantly the smell of the room assaulted my nose: cold, clean antiseptic. The sterile smell of a hospital. I sat there a minute, thinking back, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing I remembered was sneaking into Zim's lab…something about an evil kitten and a Suck-Munkee.

And a dream.

The door to the room opened before I could think any harder, and I turned my head instinctively toward the sound, squinting at the people who walked in, making out only colours: purple, red, brown.

"What's going on? Who's there?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I hated being without my glasses. It made me feel weak.

"Nice to see you to, Loser." Gaz's voice though the haze. She came close enough that I could almost make out her features and she pressed something into my hand, "Here. I grabbed your spare pair. The other ones…got broken."

Was it just me, or did her face get a bit darker as she said that? I smiled in thanks and placed the new pair of glasses on my face, blinking a bit as the world finally came into focus. I was surprised to see a smile playing across my sister's lips instead of her usual frown.

"Gaz, what---"

"Well, let's see how the patient is doing, shall we?" one of the people who entered with Gaz broke in. I looked up to see a young doctor sporting shockingly red hair and oval shaped glasses leaning over me, checking the chart in his hands, which were wrapped in white gauze. He had Band-aid on the side of one cheek. There was something about him that seemed so familiar…

"Nurse?" he continued, seemingly ignoring my stare.

"Yes, Doctor?" the nurse answered, coming out from behind the privacy sheet. She was a small girl with choppy brown hair, a white bandage taped across her nose. Guess she had broken it somehow.

"Check his blood pressure, please." the doctor asked, still pouring over the chart, turning pages in a professional type manor that looked slightly out of place.

"Sure thing, Doctor J." the nurse answered, moving towards me.

I stared at her a few moments as she pulled out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. The moment she touched my skin, however, I felt a jolt of something akin to electricity, hitting me like a bullet. Flashes of images flooded my brain as I pressed my head into my pillow, scrunching my eyes closed with the force. Seven different lives passed before my eyes, Seven different versions of my friends and family; of myself, seven different moments, seven different life or death decisions with seven different results. I could barely hear my sister's voice above the rushing of the blood in my ears, crying out that something was wrong, that I needed help. Mixed with her voice were the voices of the doctor and nurse, assuring that everything was alright, that this was normal, a side effect of the nerves I my body becoming used after being dormant for so long.

Finally, the wave of emotion and images ceased, and I lay there against the pillow, breathing heavily, staring that the faces floating above me, identical masks of concern.

I focused on the faces of the doctor and nurse. Of J and Erin. "You! I know you! Does this mean…wait, wait, did I pass? Am I alive? Did I make it? I touched the door and then everything went white and I…did I pass the Tests? Am I free?"

Gaz looked at me as if I were crazy, her face screwed up in an expression of concern. The doctor and nurse—J and Erin—both just smiled.

Erin chuckled a bit as she adjusted the blood pressure cuff, "Sounds like you had quite a dream." she stated, glancing up from her watch and into my eyes, meaningfully. She smiled again, slightly and returned to her work.

"Dream, what is she—" Gaz started.

"It's not uncommon for coma patients to become stuck in a sort of 'dream loop'. Their brains create elaborate worlds and fantasy for the patient to go through, adventures for them to partake, as a way of coping with the body's injuries." J answered.

"A dream loop…that's what Zim said: that Dib's mind was stuck in some sort of loop that kept him from waking up. That's how he—" she stopped herself, thinking it wise to not continue, possibly knowing that the adults in the room wouldn't believe her, anyhow.

I was curious, though, "Zim? What happened? Where is he?"

Gaz looked at me, her expression torn. "He's…he's at home. He said that he….he had a dream and you two were talking on the roof of the house. You said that you were stuck somewhere and wanted to leave, but didn't want to leave…to leave our mom behind." She looked away, slightly. I was surprised. This was a side of Gaz that I hadn't seen in years, at least outside of the Tests. "He told me that he said that he would come with you if you left, and you were able to make your decision, and then that part of his computer blew up, because the dream simulator he was using became corrupted. Said it will take him weeks to repair and that you should be grateful."

I had to smile at that.

"He left right after your vital signs stabilized, though," she continued, "saying that he needed to make a call. He had to ask a few questions of his superiors regarding…well, regarding why he's here."

So that was it. The Zim that I spoke to in the final Test was the real Zim. That was probably why the Test had such a dramatic reaction whenever I made my decision—it noticed that there was in intruder. Zim had not only saved me, but, in realizing his place in that version of Reality, perhaps realized something about his own mission. The questions I had about his mission being false in the Waking World as it was in the Tests seemed to be answered. I would have to remember to go see him when I got out of the hospital.

I chuckled, "Gee, Gaz, you look like you've actually been worried about me."

She glared, though it held none of its normal malice, "Yeah, well…whatever."

I had to laugh, shaking my head.

"Well, looks like everything is in order," J stated, breaking into Gaz and I's little moment, "a few months of physical therapy to get your atrophied muscles back into shape, and you should be good as new." He moved towards the door, Erin following up after sneaking me another small smile. I wanted to ask her what happened to her nose and how she got out of jail, though I had the sinking feeling that the two were related.

J paused for a moment in the doorway, turning back to face me, "It's very rare that we see a recovery like this, Dib. I think that proves that you're destined for something great." That said, he gave me one last parting smile and disappeared into the hallway after Erin.

I smiled to myself, wondering what great adventure was planned for me.

Whatever it was, I knew I wouldn't face it alone.

"_You only live twice, or so it seems—one life for yourself and one for your dreams."_

_**FIN**_

_**

* * *

**_

A/n: Whew. There. All done. Well, kinda. There is still the epilogue to do, which I actually have mostly written, but will keep from posting for a week. Why a week? Because I want to give you guys time to review with any questions that you might have that I haven't answered. I don't want anyone to be confused, and all that.

At any rate, I wonder how many people reviewed to the last chapter wanting to be number 100? (grin) The winner was Dibmagician, by the way, cos she rocks. Yup. Thank you all for your awesome review, though. Considering all the stuff that's happened within the past 6 or 7 months that I've been writing this, having that positive response to this random bit of brain vomit made all the crap a little more bearable.

Page count: 401.

I'll make the final update in a week. Till then.

-j


	13. EPILOGUE

You Only Live Twice

EPILOGUE

_Main Entry: **1ad·ven·ture**  
Pronunciation: __&d-'ven-ch&r__  
Function: noun  
Etymology: Middle English aventure, from Old French, from (assumed) Vulgar Latin adventura, from Latin adventus, past participle of advenire to arrive, from ad- + venire to come -- more at COME  
**1 a** an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks **b** the encountering of risks the spirit of adventure  
**2** an exciting or remarkable experience an adventure in exotic dining _

"Stealth-suit? Check. X-ray binoculars complete with infrared night vision? Check." I listed the items on my bed, one after another, before putting them into my knapsack. "Camera? Check. Extra film? Check. Cell phone? Check. Learning to stop freaking talking to myself?" I sighed, "Working on that one." I hoisted the bag onto my back and made my way out of my room. Today was the day—after four long years I was going to finally beat Zim at his own games. Humming the theme from _Mission Impossible_, I made my way down the stairs and towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" My sister's voice asked from the general vicinity of the couch. The sounds from the television stopped as she paused her game to look at me.

"Zim's. I'm gonna sneak in his base and see if I can catch him doing…._stuff._"

Gaz sighed, rolling her eyes, "You know that he's not even a threat to the world anymore. His mission was a fake. He forced his leaders to tell him the truth about it all a year ago after…" she trailed off a minute, her face turning slightly red. She still didn't like to talk about my accident—how close it had been. Neither did I, really. "Anyhow, why are you even bothering sneaking in there?"

I grinned at her, "Because it's fun. Duh."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her game. "Whatever. You can't go out, anyhow, it's the Annual Family Night, remember?"

I could feel the grin sliding from my face as I felt it contort into something completely unlike me: a glare. "Forgive me if I don't really care too much about this year's Annual Family Night, alright?"

She cast her eyes downward, not meeting my gaze, "Yeah, I know, it's just…" again, she trailed off, "I mean, I'm still mad at him, but this is the one day…it's just hard to stay that way, sometimes, you know? I mean," she chuckled, humorlessly, "I spent the past fourteen years trying to get the man's attention. The one day that I actually get it, well…"

I sighed, "I know, Gaz. I understand, really. I just…I just don't want to go this year. You understand, right?"

She shrugged, a small, fake smile on her lips, "Yeah." She turned back to her game, taking it off pause. I took that as my sign to leave.

"Hey, Dib?" she over the sound of her games.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, "Yeah?"

"Try not to get electrocuted this time, alright?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I love you, too, sis." I answered as I stepped through the doorway. I thought I heard her make a little growly scoffing sound from her perch on the couch, but I was probably imagining things.

oooIIIooo

"Now, Gir, my next _ingenious _plan is almost COMPLETE!" Zim was ranting, again. Loudly, "Soon, we will have Dib right where we want him!"

"But he's hiding behind the washing machine." Gir replied, as if he were stating the obvious. Which he was, but it was a bit surprising to hear him being that in tune with his surroundings.

Zim turned towards the washing machine where I was crouched, pointing wildly, "The Dib! In my base! Wait a minute…how did that human washing device get here. I have no _laundry_."

"Piggy and I were making veggie-table soup!" Gir answered, pulling a giant bowl of it out of his head. He threw it at his master, screaming, "EAT YOUR VEGGIES!" before running out of the room, giggling insanely.

Zim must have remembered to bathe in past that day because he just looked irritated at the fact that he was now covered in boiled veggies and socks instead of rolling around on the ground, screaming in agony. He glared in the direction that the robot had ran for a few moments before deciding that there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, me.

"COMPUTER!" Zim shouted, "INTRUDER ALERT!"

Laser guns and more robotic arms appeared everywhere from nowhere. I took that as my cue to exit and jumped to my feet, running towards the exit. If I could find an exit, that is. I jumped and dove over and under arms that grabbed at me. I dodged lasers, searching blindly for the way I had come in. Finally, I spotted the doorway and took off towards it, sprinting as fast as I could. I was almost there when I felt one of the arms grab my ankle, pulling me off the ground so that I hung upside down in midair by my leg.

"You…you'll never get away with this, Zim!" I shouted, struggling against the robot arm's grip. I was starting to get dizzy from the blood rushing towards my head and the fact that my glasses were now only secured in place by one arm.

"Oh, but it seems I have, _Dib._" Zim, sneered back, his upside down eyes glaring into mine.

"Oh, really?" A voice asked from the doorway. Both Zim and I turned towards it, and I cringed as the sudden movement caused my ankle to turn a way it wasn't supposed to.

A thin figure leaned in the doorway, bathed in shadow, arms crossed.

"Who are you! How did you get in!" Zim demanded.

The figure pushed itself off of the doorframe and stepped forward into the light, causing both Zim and I to gasp in surprise.

"The front door was unlocked." Gaz stated, shrugging.

Zim looked disappointed in her answer, "Oh. Whoops."

"Gaz!" I shouted, still struggling against my restraints, "Wha…what are you doing here?"

She shrugged again, "Seemed like fun."

"But…but what about going out to…to eat with Dad?"

Another shrug, "I can eat pizza anytime. Do you want to be rescued or not?"

I could feel a grin stretching my face. I opened my arms in welcome. "Rescue away."

"Never!" Zim shouted, "You have made a stupid move, Dib-sister. COMPUTER! Destroy the humans!"

"Do I _have_ to?" the computer grumbled.

Zim paused for a moment, thinking, "Well, no, I guess you really don't, now that I think about it…" he turned to me, "Why are we doing this again?"

I tried to shrug, surprised at how hard it was to do so while upside down, "I dunno. What else is there to do?"

"Could go to Denny's." my sister answered. Zim and I both turned to stare at her, again, not used to her being involved in our "game". She blushed at little, "What? I never said I wasn't hungry, I just didn't want to miss out on all the excitement."

Zim turned to look at me. I attempted another shrug, trying to ignore the spots that were forming in front of my face, "They have waffles."

Zim scrunched up his face, seeming deep in thought. After a few moments he gave a little nod. "COMPUTER! RELESE THE DIB!"

"Whatever."

The robotic arm that held me aloft suddenly let go and I found myself on the ground, rubbing the bump that was forming on my head from the landing.

"Eh, sorry about that." Zim apologized, holding out a gloved hand to me to help me up. I accepted it without thinking and he pulled me to my feet. "So…Denny's then?"

Gaz and I shrugged in agreement and the three of us started towards the door.

We were stopped, however, by the sound of static as one of the view screens behind us turned on. The three of us froze, looking at each other in surprise. Gaz and I both knew that the only reason the screen would turn on was if there was a call from Zim's leaders. We also knew that he hadn't heard anything from them in almost a year.

Slowly we turned back to face the incoming message.

The screen was blurry and having trouble keeping the picture in tact. Tallests Purple and Red were standing there, both looking rather irritated. Inter-cut between moments of clear sound was the irritating noise of static.

"_Shhhh_…Zim…_shh_…..Zim we know you're _shh_ere, answer us." Red demanded.

Zim looked at us with an unreadable expression and then approached the screen. "I…I'm here, my Tall—" He caught himself and paused, clearing his throat, "I'm here. What do you want?"

"_Shhh…_We need you to _shh_ome back to Irk. We are at _shhh_ with plant Meekrob and are demanding that _shhhh_vaders come back from their assignments to help defend the planet."

Zim glared at his former leaders, "But I'm _not_ an Invader, _remember_?" he spit, "And I don't _have_ an assignment."

Red looked a bit more irritated, "Oh yeah, we_shhhh_ did tell you all that, d_sssshhhhh_n't we?" He grumbled, seemingly to himself.

"_Shh_ We also need decoys to get blown up!" Purple stated. Red shot him a look.

"Yes, well, as exciting as that all sounds, I'd really rather not. Besides, isn't Invader Tenn assigned to Meekrob? I figured that she would be able to handle it."

"Yeah, well, she had a bit of trouble _shhh_ith some rouge Si_shhhh_nits." Red stated.

"She's also been _shhh_napped." Purple added, receiving another look from his counterpart.

Zim shrugged, "Oh well. Sucks to be her. Good luck with that whole war, thing. Let me know how it all turns out."

That said, he turned away from the screen and started to walk away. Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground, howling in pain. Gaz rushed towards him, keeling beside him, trying to keep him still as she looked for any injury that could be causing him that much pain. I turned and faced the screen, glaring at my former foe's former leaders.

"What's going on?" I demanded, "What are you doing to him?"

Red glared at me, "Oh, it's that _shh_ig headed human boy." he sneered. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from protesting about my head size. "It's just a _shh_ttle obedience _shh_raining. We've tapped into the pain centers in Z_shhhh_ak. He now realizes that he doesn't have a choice in the _shhh_tter. He either comes, or he dies."

This seemed all too familiar. I tried to keep myself from thinking too much on my experiences in the Tests, no matter how much this reminded me of them, knowing that nothing I learned there would really help me, now.

Zim finally stopped screaming, gasping for air. I quickly glanced in his direction to see my sister helping him to sit up. He glared at the screen, a streak of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

"_Fine._" He hissed, "If you're going to play _that way_, fine. I'll come. Send me the coordinates and the battle plans. You," he coughed, clutching his chest, "you have my allegiance."

Red grinned, humorlessly, "I knew that _shhh_ it our way." he answered. That said, the transmission ended, the screen suddenly going dark.

I walked over to where Gaz was helping Zim to his feet, my fists clenched at my side in an attempt to keep in my anger. "You're not seriously going to go, are you?" I demanded.

Zim coughed, "It's my duty, Dib. I have to. I'm a soldier. It's my duty to protect the Massive and my leaders." he answered, not meeting my glare.

Again, I got a moment of déjà vu "That's bullshit, and you know it!" I shouted, "You don't owe them anything, especially not your life; not after the way they've treated you! Don't go, Zim. Stay here. Let them be destroyed."

"I don't really have a choice in the matter, now do I?" he shouted back at me, finally looking up from the ground, his eyes shining with anger and passion, "There is a tracer put into all of the Paks that are connected to the collective. That little shock I just got? That was the Tallests hacking into my programming, making it so that my very_ essence _is telling me to come back. If I ignore it I will be driven insane from the pain. They've left me no choice, Dib. I have to go."

"Then we're coming with you." Gaz stated, quietly. Zim and I both turned to look at her, matching expressions of shock and surprise on our faces.

"What?"

Gaz looked up at Zim, determination in her eyes, "We're coming with you. Dib has Tak's ship. We can come help."

"We are _not_ going to help Irk destroy a planet!" I answered, shocked.

"No, you idiot, I don't mean _them_. I mean we can help the other side. Just because Zim has to go doesn't mean that he has to be _completely_ loyal, right?" She looked to the alien for conformation, "I mean, you've fucked things up for your leaders without even meaning to, right? Who's to say that any thing destroyed on _your_ side by _your_ ship wasn't just you being an idiot?"

Zim was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then a slow grin spread over his face, "You know, human, I think you're onto something."

The both looked at me.

"This is your big chance, Dib. You're chance to have a great adventure." Gaz prompted.

_You are destined for great things, Dib._

I smiled, slowly, my grin matching Zim's. "Alright. Let's do it. Let's go sabotage the Irken invasion!" I answered. All of a sudden my stomach growled, loudly. "Uh…but first…let's go get something to eat."

My sister and Zim laughed.

"To Denny's?" Zim proposed.

"To Denny's." Gaz and I agreed, and we finally made our way out of the room, planning our next great adventure.

The End?

* * *

A/n: Ok, guys, that's it: the official end to YOLT.

Or is it?

I've left this pretty open ended. As you can see, I've set it up so that I can easily write a sequel if I wanted to. However, to do so, I will basically be writing "Invader Dib" (what was supposed to be the end of the entire series, had it lasted that long), which is something that many have tried, and…not gotten the greatest results that I could see. So I don't know if I will be continuing this or not. I'm going to think on it for a bit. I need to take a break from this all to focus on my original stuff, anyhow (the novel version of this being one of the projects, as well as the zombie movie short that I've been brainstorming with a friend of mine to get myself into the flow of things for my career). More often than not the little Zim muse will annoy me enough that I'll make an attempt, but I'm not promising anything (though I'm about to dump my cat in the tub if she jumps up on the keyboard one. more. time. while I'm typing this. Sheesh).

Thank you all so so so so so so so so soooooooo much for your wonderful reviews and for reading all of this. Really. You've all kept me sane.

The rest of this note might be boring to some people. I'm going to go through all of the chapters and point out who the Guides/St--- were, the references, and little random tidbits of info that I can think of, if only because I've gotten a few questions and comments regarding such. I'll also be putting a link what I had written of the original version of the Envy chapter, so you guys can see for yourselves if I made the right decision by changing it. If you're not interested in all that, or didn't have a question, you don't have to read it all, but I figure that _someone_ out there has to care about that kind of stuff (and I know I like reading stuff about other people's stories, but I might just be weird), so I'm gonna sit here and write it all out. Sometimes back-story is fun, and I'll be able to touch on some stuff that I wasn't able to in-story, like the other character's thoughts and motivations that I couldn't focus on because of the first person POV.

So, if you're interested in all that, read on, if not, thank you for reading, and I hope to see you all soon.

-j

* * *

ACCIDENT (Death):

J: None

Erin: None

S-----: None

REFERENCES : None, really, that I can find.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:The Doominator kitten is loosely based off of the kitten that an ex boyfriend of mine's roommate used to have, Robot the Ninja Kitty. This kitten looked all cute and innocent, but give him the chance, and he would fuck your shit up. He used to wake me up almost every morning that I would stay over there by biting my nose, because my boyfriend at the time would never remember to close his bedroom door all the way when he left for class in the morning. So hats off to Robot, the kitten with the amazing ability to claw the hell out of things and pee in people's beds.

THANK YOUS: Dibsthe1, Senri, Kitsune of Destruction, and Dibmagician.

* * *

MAKER (Test):

J: Guide

Erin: Waitress

St----: None

REFERENCES:

:Down Town Café…this is a reference to the movie Monkybone. The main character is in a coma and sent to a place called "Down Town", which is basically limbo. If you haven't seen that movie, you should. It's based on a graphic novel and is directed by Henry Selik, who is the guy who directed Nightmare Before Xmas and James and the Giant Peach.

:Dib thanking the table for being so cool—a random reference to an old Bill Cosby standup. Cosby is really talking about thanking the toilet bowl for being so blissfully cool after throwing up after a long night of drinking, but that's what it reminded me of.

:"Heaven isn't this clean." Of course, this is a reference to JTHM where Nny goes to heaven and it's prolly the dirtiest place on earth. No one bothers to keep the place clean because everyone is too busy sitting in chairs being completely content.

:The movie that Dib saw on HBO—of course this is referring to the movie Se7en.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:I had to write this one out, twice, because I accidentally deleted the first draft. I almost exploded with the effort.

:Other ideas for Dib's Guide: God, his mother, Nny from JTHM (as a type of 'Dib from the FUTURE' that would show him what he would have became had he not had to go through the Tests). I settled on a satire version of Jhonen for various reasons. I feel a bit bad, though, because, as I don't know Mr. Vasquez personally, there is no way for me to write him IC. There were a lot of times when I was thinking, "I don't think he would act that way…" based on what I saw (heard) on the IZ DVD commentary, but then I would have to remind myself that it's not the Real JV, and it's my satire (that is so not the right word, I don't think) of him, and that stupid little voice would shut up. For the moment. I still apologize for using his likeness. Please don't sue.

: Erin is a self insert. The uniform she's wearing is the one that I have to wear for work at the horrible restaurant that is Friendly's. I was a bit worried about sticking myself in the story because of the negative stigma that surrounds SIs. In order to make myself feel better about it, I treated her like crap, gave her the worst assignments, got her arrested, and broke her nose later on. A psychologist would have a field day with the subconscious meanings behind that. On a slightly unrelated note, Erin is my middle name.

:I giggled after writing the small mention of Larry the Blob Guy for about twenty minutes. The image of him I had in my head was hilarious. I wish I could draw.

:I kept spelling Chihuahua wrong on purpose, not because I really had no freaking clue how to spell it enough to look it up, yeah, that's it.

: I wrote a good part of the scene around the fact that I wanted someone to say, "Shut up and drink your Poop."

:I thought out the entire conversation where J tells Dib what happened while sitting at the bus stop after work one night. I was laughing so hard to myself that the crazy homeless guy who was on the bench next to me kept scooting further and further away. From a guy who talks to his socks about how the president is really an android bent on destroying the human race, that's something. (And no, I am not joking about the homeless guy.)

: Limbo is a restaurant in this chapter for my own personal amusement, mostly because I had written most of it after a particularly bad night at work. However, I thought it would be redundant to keep returning to the same place, hence the change in Limbo's form in later chapters. Leans a bit on the "Heaven looks different to everyone" theories, 'cept on a bit more depressing scale.

THANK YOUS: Senri, Kitsune of Destruction, Dibmagician, spectacal, Maran Zelde, Dibsthe1, and bl (whom I'm assuming is blah blah)

* * *

MONEY (Greed):

J: John, Dib's assistant

Erin: None

S--: Steve

REFERENCES:

: The reference was both to Steve's cornflower blue tie and to the fact that, when complimented on it, he announces that it's Tuesday. This refers to my favorite book/movie—Fight Club, where Jack (the narrator) only really realizes that it's Tuesday because his boss is wearing a cornflower blue tie.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

An early idea for the alternate realities of the Tests were to borrow from other fic authors. Each version was going to be in the universe of another fic (with the author's permission, of course), like say, Dibthe1's ongoing fic 'verse, or the 'verse of "Pact" by Senri, or "Eyes of a Female" by Dibslyn, etc. While it would have been a different way to explain the nature of fanfics (anything deviating from canon could be considered an alternate universe), I decided against it, partially because it wouldn't have really fit in with what I was trying to do, Test wise, and partially because I knew that I wouldn't have been able to do each author's universe justice. If I had done it, however, I would have tried to imitate the other author's writing style as well. If nothing else, it would have been fun. I like the idea of Dib jumping into other people's fics for some reason.

I see CEO Dib in this chapter as a mixture of Bruce Wayne and the guy from American Psycho for some reason.

The response that I got from this chapter was one of the reasons that I ended up writing the epilogue to the story. Lots of people were bothered by the idea that, while Gaz is sorry Now for treating Dib like crap, once she is healthy again, she would return to her old crappy self (which, in this chapter, would probably happen, though not to the same extent. She would be evil and vengeful, but it wouldn't hold the same malice. Though I do feel the need to state that her attitude towards Dib in this chapter was mainly out of jealousy because he got so much out of their dad's death because of a silly little typo, and she got screwed over for a few more years. She also is a brat further along in the chapter because she's seeing what a horrible person Dib is becoming and she can't do anything about it. I tried to show that she and Dib and Zim had a pretty close relationship before the death of Membrane—the fact that they all went to pick out and helped name Dib's car—but I guess that I didn't fully hit the mark.) I didn't want people to think the same thing about what would happen when the story was over. Does that make sense?

THANK YOUS: Chatwyn, DibMagician, Dibsthe1, Invader Sneakyonfoota, Neko-Metallium, Maran Zelde, sensuallyxcarved, Silver Sands, Moonglo, Kitsune of Destruction, The Fic Lord, Capra Hircus.

* * *

DRINK (Gluttony):

J: Officer Jonathan V

Erin: None

St---: Dib's uncle, who gives him his first drink.

REFERENCES:

:"…and a thirty hour nap." This is extremely obscure and is from a web comic I read called "Stubble" (www(dot)stubblecomics(dot)com). Everyone should check it out, it's a good read. I just think that it's a funny thing to say, now, and has kinda become one of my phrases at work…thirty hour nap…heh.

:Dib hit Gaz while on Spooner Street. Who lives on Spooner Street? Why the Griffin family on the TV show "Family Guy", of course. If you've never watched Family Guy you need to watch Cartoon Network at night more often, cos seriously, that is some Funny Shit.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

"Fear the grains" is another little line that made me giggle uncontrollably at an inopportune time. I really need to stop thinking about stuff I'm writing while at work. People look at you funny when you laugh for absolutely no reason.

I had a bit of a problem fitting in the fact that Membrane is not Dib's last name. In later chapters, I just gave up, but here I was still trying to fish out a logical explanation as to why his surname is different, aside from, you know, the fact that he's an experiment and was built by his father instead of born. Yup.

Yes, I know, Zim doesn't have sex organs. There is a good explanation, then as to why he has them in this chapter. You see—OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THAT BEHIND YOU! (runs away).

I am still horribly amused at the fact that no one really knew what to feel about Dib slapping Gaz in this chapter, considering he was being such a hypocritical jerk. I think I made up for the mind fuck in the Wrath chapter, though, right?

THANK YOUS: Spyden, DibMagician, Maran Zelde, Dibsthe1, Kitsune of Destruction, chickens, Jake, Coco Tapioca, Blahsblah2001

* * *

BLOOD (Wrath):

J: Dr. V, the psychologist

Erin: None

St---: Disembodied voice

REFERENCES:

:Mr. Prickley, the principal. Who is he? The principal from the cartoon Recess.

:"That blood isn't your, is it?" "Not all of it." : Fight Club

:Mentioning separating Zim from the Collective: I'd say pretty Borgish there.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:This chapter was probably my favorite to write, and also, contains the scene that inspired this entire story. I had had the scene where Dib takes Gaz's GameSlave and throws it against the wall stuck in my head for weeks before starting this story. I'm pretty sure that it came about from one of the many, many discussions between Dibsthe1 and I about the dynamics of Dib and Gaz's relationship. In the original little "vision", Dib threw Gaz's GameSlave against the wall and she responds by standing up and clapping, saying that he "beat the first level of the game" and that to win back his Soul, he will have to face the rest of his fears/ problems. Everything just evolved from there. (As I'm writing this, there is a full grown cat attempting to balance herself on my shoulders. She's failing miserably. Silly cat.) Originally the story was going to be Dib facing off with Gaz, Zim, his dad, his mom, the kids at school, Miss Bitters, and the possibility of failure. For some reason, I decided that the Seven Sins angle was a bit more interesting, and also would work better if I converted the idea to an original story (which is pretty much my only reason for writing fanfiction to begin with—as a way to practice for the real thing, and work out my ideas).

:Gaz cares in this chapter—she really does—she just doesn't know how to Show it. She does, eventually, save Dib's life by calling an ambulance after he stabs himself (which is a lot for someone to do for a person who just tried to kill and succeeded in permanently disfiguring them), but even in the beginning, when Dib opens the bathroom door, she feels a twinge of sympathy for her brother, she's just also a callus bitch, and it's hard for her to let out her nice side. One of the bad things about writing from a first person POV is that we only see the Actions of the other people around the character, and not their Thoughts. However, actions Do speak louder than words…

: BlahBlah was right in pointing out that if Dib had actually broken some ribs, he would have to go to the hospital. I blame it on Dib's tendency to blow things out of proportion and not the fact that I'm a lazy writer and didn't really do any research on how a broken rib would feel. Yup that's it. Also, I know that it's a slow and painful death for someone to stab themselves in the stomach, however, killing himself was not really what Dib was trying to do—he was more just trying to act Against what the Voice so desperately wanted him to do. Stabbing himself instead of Gaz was an act of pure rebellion, not an attempt at suicide.

:A lot of this chapter I pulled from the pages of JTHM, most notably the fact that the Voice wanted Dib to become a Waste Lock. What's a Waste Lock, you might ask? Here is the part in JTHM (Issue 6) where it basically explains the whole thing:

_NNY: Hey, speaking of churros, do you know God's horrible with answering questions? He wouldn't help me understand whets been going on. Rude little man. ((At this point in the series, Nny had successfully killed himself, the creature behind the wall has escaped, the universe has imploded and Nny has been kicked out of heaven for exploding everyone's head.))_

_SATAN: Of course he didn't. Its a blasphemy to question God, isn't it? Seems to engender blind worship or disillusionment. Bitchy sit, no? I, however have no problem with giving such answers. There is such amusement in seeing the joy in someone when they Think that they have just gotten smarter. Allow me to clear things. You, little man, carry the distinction of being a Waste Lock._

_NNY: Umm..that sounds...Bad._

_SATAN: Nonetheless, it's all quite necessary. I'm sure you wouldn't argue the point that the Pre-mortem is riddled with pains, traumas, horrors, and other such unpleasantries. Well it's nothing compared to a world without Waste Locks. Know that, for all its troubles, the world is Perfect, flawless in its beauties and turmoils. Violence and nightmares being a natural product of humanity. _

_If you had proper eyes, you would see more than just the act of the human negative, you would see the residue of it, sewage in a sense, people leaving trails of slime, like slugs. Slugs in Dockers. And like any waste, it accrues. You would see people walking through this sick, unknowlingly wading through it, like leaves from a forest of horrors. And it collects at a manic pace, what with humans incessantly shitting into the ether, is you will. It must be managed, and it is--stockpiled in specially cleared out "spaces", prisons, almost, such pure aggression is a rabid thing, eager to breed, and coat everything in itself. These cells can be anything--objects, points in space, pimples, etc._

_Each cell is assigned a lock to stabilize the fluctuations and maintain the seal. Of course, locks, whether human, dogs, or weasels, never know what they've been doomed to be. God, I love that word--DOOM!_

_Sane or damaged to begin with, they all share a common demeanor--introverted, quiet, and of no threat to anyone but themselves. Inevitably they degenerate, collapsing into a quiet, mental dissolve._

_I don't claim to know who runs this operation, but they must have been ill upon choosing you. Seems you were quite sick to begin with, then having all this much go through you set off some new amusement. You were anything But quiet, seeming to become almost an extension of what you were charged to contain. Messy, but I thought it was funny. Still, as always, it works, a system as old as malice, itself. You expired, leaving nothing but nothing for the effluent to escape to, thus effectively flushing it into oblivion. They, then, use a sort of back up disc to reinstall existence. NEAT, HUH?_

_NNY: I'm a Flusher?_

_SATAN: Precisely._

_NNY: Shit._

_SATAN: Exactly!_

THANK YOUS: Spyden, Senri, Dibsthe1, DibMagician, Coco Tapioca, Tarifu, Maran Zelde, Neko-Metallium, Tallest Red, Becka, Blahblah2001, Kkwy.

* * *

DREAM (Dream)

J: Himself

Erin: Herself (dressed as teacher)

St---: Voice

REFERENCES:

:"Looks like we've got a Van Halen fan on our hands" "The song is 'Hot For Teacher" not "Hot For Librarian": This one was explained (which I did as an afterthought, cos I doubted that anyone reading this would listen to Van Halen to get the reference), but is, in fact a reference to the song "Hot For Teacher" by Van Halen. Go. Download. Now.

:"Hey, Old Dudes!": Defiantly a reference to "Men In Black" (how fitting!). The part where Tommy Lee Jones and the other guy are arguing cos the worlds going to be destroyed and Will Smith notices the mural of the "spaceships" at the Worlds Fair and wants to know if they still work.

:"Well exCUSE me for wanting to be in the spirit of things!" Ok. This didn't work as well, because I couldn't figure out a way to add the "Princess" in there, considering it was Erin talking to J and not the other way around. In my head, however, the "Princess" was there, which makes it a reference to the old "Zelda" cartoon. Link would always say that to Zelda—at least once an episode—"well exCUSE me, Princess". I got into many a playground fight because the boys in my first grade class, or however old I was, decided to adopt this phrase and it drove me Nuts.

:Dib has carved into his desk the words "Big Heded Freak! Go home!": This is a reference to the first (and I guess the third, now that I think about it) Silent Hill games. At the end of the games, in the Nowhere world, you find a desk that is separated from the others that has the words "Go Home. Thief. Drop Dead." carved into the surface.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:I was a bit worried about this chapter. There was a lot of exposition that I wanted to get out, but didn't know if it would be boring. I'm glad that it was taken as well as it was, seeing as how it's not one of the more exciting chapters.

:The school was the second version of Limbo that I had in mind. I doubt there is a single person in the world who didn't think that school was equal to purgatory. I loved school, myself. I enjoyed high school and I enjoying college, but I will never, ever enjoy math class and will always count the seconds till I can leave. I think that could constitute Limbo, don't you? Plus, with the school as Limbo, I could make the Val Halen reference. Heh.

:J and Erin had originally gone and ordered pizza when they left Dib alone in the classroom. It was changed to Chinese after Dibsthe1, my wonderful beta reader, pointed out that Dib would probably be tired of pizza because of Gaz's lust for it, and that not only did Chinese also deliver (a fact that I had actually forgotten myself, since there's a Chinese place across from my apartment, so I don't have to really bother calling) and Dib also was seen eating it in an episode, so it's a pretty good guess that he likes the stuff. Yup.

:The Male and Female sins thing was something that I came up with a long time ago. I don't know if it's been used anywhere else or not. There are some things that Females are more prone to than Males, and vice versa. Girls tend to take more Pride in their appearance (both physical and otherwise), are Envious of other women ("she's thinner, richer, prettier, more popular, etc than me"), and are, of course, the basis of Original Sin, because we have what guys want, which is where Lust comes in. Guys, however, are prone to be more violent and take out their tempers in more violent ways (Wrath), care a lot about financial stability and wealth (hell, the American Dream itself—making your way from nothing to a multi-millionaire if perhaps the Greediest idea ever), and you tend to see a lot more guys with beer guts or, well, guts period, than women (Gluttony). Sloth, however, I think can fit most everyone, because, come on, how many people would rather be up and about all day, work, work, working than sitting around, relaxing or sleeping or enjoying themselves? Therefore, Sloth is androgynous. Yes, it can be argued that all of the Sins go both ways—that women are just as violent with their anger as men, and that men are just as prideful as women, but this is just my own personal theory. I'm not a sociologist, nor am I a theologist (or Christian for that matter), so none of this is based on any sort of fact, but rather, just my own personal observations.

:The nature of fanfiction and the Creator/Author/Trainee relationship is something else that I've been thinking about for a long time. Personally, I write fanfiction as a way to hone my skills and focus on areas that I normally have trouble with (dialogue and plot development). It also helps me because I want to write cartoons for a living, so I should get used to using characters that aren't mine. You guys have no idea what an amazing compliment it is to me when you say that I've kept the characters IC. To me, that means the world because it tells me that I'm capable of writing another person's characters the way that they would act and therefore I would be successful at my future (dream) career. At any rate, that's the way that I see fanfiction—as a way of honing our skills. Of training ourselves for the future. Someone else is the creature, but we're the authors and that makes us God in our own right, but we will never be that character's God. Am I even making sense anymore? It's 5:30am, and I've been awake for an exceptionally long time, so I may just be rambling now.

:Spetacal asked how long the Tests are as compared to time in the real world. This was something that I really didn't give much thought to. I guess I should for the Real version of this. I would say that each test takes about a week and ½ , and each Limbo scene takes another ½ week. That gives us 12 weeks in all, which is about 3 months. The last "Limbo" scene (the hallway) takes place in the last hour or so, so it could still fit into that timeline because it doesn't really count, since Dib had already won by that point.

THANK YOUS: Snickers-03, DibMagician, Coco Tapioca, Senri, Maran Zelde, Dibsthe1, Tallest Red, Spectacal, Blahblah2001

* * *

GAME (Pride)

J: None

Erin: Euro

St--: Dark Bootie

REFERENCES:

:"Second star to the right"—Peter Pan. Straight on till morning, ya?

:I still am trying to figure out where I got Clarence Fishmonger from. It just sounds too familiar, but Google says nothing. NOTHING!

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:I don't really like this chapter. It was a bit too clichéd for my taste, but really couldn't come up with anything else that would fit. Ah well.

:Maran Zelde asked what would have happened if everyone had just operated on and killed Zim anyhow, despite Dib's best efforts. The answer is: nothing. He still would have passed. The Test wasn't so much about Zim living as it was Dib giving up everything to do what was right. To tell the truth, though, Zim dying anyhow hadn't even crossed my mind, but now I wish it had, because that would have been an interesting ending to the chapter.

:After I put up this chapter, I realized that I didn't like the original security code that I had Dib use. I used 666777 as a way to show that he was somewhere in between hell and heaven, but then remembered the code to make the would HELL on a calculator (1134 and then turn it upside down), and thought that would have been more fun, but it was too late, then. Ah well. The symbolism in the first way I did it still stands, at least.

:Neko-Metallium asked me thoughts on living in Florida: It's too freaking hot and I was out of work for over a month last year because of hurricanes. Plus there are giant, strange, scary bugs. Other than that, it's not so bad. It gets old after a while. Kind of like living in a post card. Every day it looks the same.

:Thank you so much to everyone who pointed out that dissecting something that is alive is called vivisection, and not an autopsy. Again, this was just kind of a case of Jenna being a lazy monster, and not really feeling like researching anything. She also didn't pay much attention in biology. Whoops. Thank you all, again. :)

THANK YOUS: Spectacal, Maran Zelde, Dibmagician, Tallest Purple, Dibsthe1, Evil Pancake, chickens, Mimsy-borogrove, Neko-metallium, blahblah2001

* * *

PAIN (Lust)

J: Voice on the other end of the cell phone Erin is using outside of the club.

Erin: Herself—she didn't get a name, this time. Also was the Email and the phone call, of course.

St—: Stephanie

REFERNCES:

:Talking Bathroom Stall: Daria, of course.

:I originally got this backwards when I wrote it down the last time, and in realizing that, I figured out the missing reference: Dib's email address being iwanttobelieve is a reference to X-Files/the UFO poster that has been around for years that Mulder had in his office, and Erin's being at questionsleep(dot)com is a reference to JV's own email address and his website. Whee.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:I hate this chapter. I really do. I wanted so badly to write Lust as a cutter/adrenaline junkie chapter, if only to work out some of my own problems, and I just feel like I didn't quite make it. Of course, the fact that I was horribly depressed during this period of time for various reasons, and literally had to force myself to write didn't help much, either. Out of my own mind, it isn't bad, because it covers many different types of Lust, but still…it could be better.

:Stephanie's tattoo is based off of one that I had envisioned for myself a long time ago, but seeing as how I recently got something small done on my shoulder ("To Empower" in Arabic for personal reasons), it wouldn't look right, anymore. Ah well.

:The song I used in this was "Strawberry Gashes" by Jack Off Jill. I found it amusing that, right after I posted this, FFN made a no songfic rule. Whoops. I won't tell if you won't.

:All of the "excuses" that Stephanie mentions are ones that I've used myself. None of them really work. Ah well. And, consequencely, peroxide does work wonders on bloodstains. This I know, not as a cutter, but as a woman. Yes, I know. That's gross.

:Maran Zelde had asked if Zim was really involved with Gaz in this chapter. He wasn't. He was just trying out a bit of Human Gross Humor. He found out he's bad at it.

THANK YOUS: Maran Zelde, chickens, Dibsthe1, DibMagician, Coco Tapioca, blahblah2001, Tailfeather, Ura Baen, Capra hircus

* * *

UPGRADE (Envy)

J: On the other end of the cell phone that Erin uses

Erin: Error

St---: Stan

REFERENCES: I…don't think there were any. There was supposed to be one from Pulp Fiction about awkward silences, but I forgot to put it in Whoops.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:This was not my original idea for the Envy chapter. The original idea was a slash mini fic involving lots of drugs and partying where Dib came up with this idea for costume parties where people could be their true selves and Zim ended up getting the credit. The decision would come when Zim ODed and Dib would have to either call the paramedics or let him die. I decided against this idea in order to admit to my own Sin and used the "upgraded replacement" idea (which is something I had been feeling in regards to my ex-boyfriend/best friend whom I'm still in love with's ex girlfriend whom He's still in love with. Hello, soap opera). The original chapter (what I have written of it, which was quite a bit, actually) can be found here: www(dot)angelfire(dot)com(slash)indie(slash)forgottenrain(slash)YOLT(dot)html. I had written it after reading lots and lots of Sin City, hence the tense changing and the overall mood in some places. Most of the chapter was meant to be a homage/reference to Sin City.

:the "Boxcar Willy" pizza special mentioned (3.50 for a slice the size of your head and a beer) is real. It belongs to a local pizza joint across the street from UCF called Lazy Moon, which has The. Best. Pizza. for CHEAP. The only problem is that pizza and beer that cheap leads to drinking at noon, but that's a college side effect, I think. My friends and I do find it amusing, however, that we managed to stay away from the college pizza and beer for breakfast lunch and dinner stereotype for three years, and have now, finally succumbed. Ah well. Had to happen sometime, I guess. The joys of being 21.

:There's a mistake in this chapter. Originally, I had wanted Dib to have been gone for 2 years before returning to his hometown, but then decided to change it to only 6 months. I didn't change it in all the places it was mentioned, though. Whoops. My bad.

:I really liked this chapter.

:You guys all really, really hated Stan, didn't you?

THANK YOUS: blahblah2001, Invader Demeter, DibMagician, Dibsthe1, Capra hircus, Call me blue streak, Maran Zelde

* * *

TRUTH/LIES (Deception)

J: None

Erin: None

St---: Anyone he had been up to that point. Himself, really.

REFERENCES: None that I can find. I stopped really thinking about them at this point. Whoops.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:This chapter had been driving me crazy to be written for months. I was so happy to get it finally out of my head and onto paper, you have no idea.

:I came up with the first paragraph of this chapter, and this "True" version of Limbo walking home from the bus stop after work one night. I had noticed before that, at least here in Florida, the nights that are the coldest have the most beautiful, clear night skies. I don't know why that is, but I think that it's a nice message: it's always the most beautiful when it's the coldest out. I could just be weird though.

:As I'm writing this, the sun is coming up.

:St--- isn't exactly Satan, just like J and Erin aren't exactly angels. They all exist outside of the normal heaven/hell realms, but do have the same essence as demons/angels. Does that make sense?

THANK YOUS: DibMagician, blahblah2001, Dibsthe1, Uru Baen, Maran Zelde, Capra Hircus, Thepersonthing, Kayla, tailfeather, mimsy-borogrove

* * *

PERFECTION (Sloth)

J: Phone call

Erin: Herself, runs to catch up with Dib on the street and then gets arrested and disappears

St--: Dib's mom

REFERENCES:

:I wanted a reference to Back to the Future with Dib waking up from his nightmare to see his mom, but I didn't quite make it.

:I'm sure "Up and at 'em, Atom Ant" is from something. I'm guessing the Atom Ant cartoon. One of my old boyfriends used to say it whenever he wanted me to get out of bed in the morning (well, afternoon whenever he got back from class).

:Pepito (the anti-christ) and the wide eyed boy next to him (Squee) are both from the _Squee _comics by JV. Pepito doesn't usually have the 666 on his head but there was a panel in one of JV's other comics (I think it was a JTHM, I'm not sure) where a mom is holding the hand of an ugly child that looks like an early sketch for Pepito that has the 666 (and an arrow pointing to it saying that the mom doesn't know her kid is the anti Christ), so I just used it for the hell of it. Originally I was going to reference my own work and have the kid Dib freaks out over be Alyssa from A Sue For Each, but that would have given stuff away that I haven't gotten to yet (I say that like I've gotten to anything seeing as how I've only written 2 chapters), so I decided against it.

:The rooftop conversation with the Filling Stations line is from a piece of fanart I found by "Windchaser". The address for it is: www(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)deviation(slash)17233428(slash). I love that person's stuff. It's all awesome.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:Another chapter that was dying to be written.

:I wanted somewhere for Erin's hair to get all chopped off, because I had cut mine super short IRL. Making her have to become androgynous to sneak into a Test was a good a way as any. If anyone was curious, after the Powers "cops" come and take her away, she resists arrest, which is how she got her nose broken. She had information that she needed to get to J and she couldn't do it very well from jail. J ends up bailing her out, eventually, but it took a lot of string pulling to do it.

:I love Gretchen. I'm a super big Gretchen/Dib shipper. I think she would be an awesome match for him. It's not her fault that she's awkward, and she's the only one who seems to care in the series.

:I have no idea if dishwashing gel will bleach your hair. I do know that it ruined the skirt of my favorite dress in high school, though. That stuff is dangerous.

:The earthquake is many things. The reasoning I gave in the last chapter about it being the Test recognizing that there was an intruder was one, St—'s anger at being defeated is another, The realities resetting itself was another…basically, it's just what my head was showing me was happening at the time.

THANK YOUS: DibMagician, Call me blue streak, mimsy-borogrove, chickenleg, tailfeather, capra hircus, Dibsthe1, Invader Mel, Kkwy

* * *

END (Human)

J: Doctor

Erin: Nurse

St--: None

REFERENCES:

:Alice in Wonderland, but that was made obvious.

:"Open your eyes". The opening to the movie "Vanilla Sky" and also it's Spanish counterpart, "Abre Los Ojos".

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:J and Erin are always the doctor and nurse. J is the person that Membrane is talking to throughout the chapter. How did they get into the Waking World? Well, the Waking World is just another Dream to them, right?

:The beginning segment with the computer talk was Zim's program kicking him out.

:Yes, I made Membrane unnecessarily harsh. I did this for a few reasons: one, being that I will prolly just instinctively write very stern father figures because I don't have that great of a relationship with my dad, so that's really all I know, and two, Membrane lost his wife and is now about to lose his son because, in his mind, he failed at saving them. He's only human. Part of him is ashamed because he feels useless, part of him is screaming to keep his pride. He's so torn between what he feels is the right thing to do, of course he's going to be seemingly harsh and cruel and angry. At least, that's how I see it.

THANK YOUS: DibMagician, Capra hircus, Dibsthe1, The eclectic ones, chickens, phoenix, Uru baen, Meiko, Kkwy

* * *

EPILOGUE (Adventure)

J: None

Erin: None

St--: None

REFERENCES: None.

BACKSTORY/ RANDOMNESS:

:I wanted to show how little ended up changing in the year after Dib wakes up from his coma, but also how much did at the same time. Gaz and Dib are on good terms, Dib and Zim are friends but still continue with the "game", Zim found out that his mission was a joke, but still has enough pride to keep attempting to take over, even if most of it's just for fun, etc. Some things change, some things stay the same, but all in all, it's for the best and everyone's happier because of it. Everyone learned something. Awww. But anyhow, that's why some of it is just copied from other chapters—to have a sense of…balance, I guess.

: Like I said, before, I left it open for the sequel, which will be basically Invader Dib, should I have the urge. And I prolly will. We'll see.

:Final word count: 413. Wow. That's a lot of pages.

THANK YOUS: Everyone who took the time to read this, even if you didn't review. I hope that you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

-j


End file.
